When Opposites Attract
by DaisyDay
Summary: Mike and Connie match wits and skills as they face one another on opposite sides of a high-profile murder case. Yet despite the rival feelings in the courtroom proceedings, there is another type of feeling simmering underneath their professional facades. "And for one space of a heartbeat, he wanted to believe she was attracted to him."
1. Chapter 1

(Most characters are of the Law and Order universe.)

LAW AND ORDER

When Opposites Attract

Chapter 1

An early riser, Connie Rubirosa was awake even earlier than usual.

Today was the first day of her vacation and she was not sure what to make of that idea. Not that she wanted or needed the time off, but yesterday Jack McCoy had explained to her that she had accumulated so much vacation time that she either had to take the days off or she would lose them. With much reluctance, she had made the decision to take the time off.

It hadn't even been a day yet and she was already regretting it.

To help ease herself into her first free day, she decided to follow her usual weekday morning ritual.

Slipping on her bathrobe, she went to the front door and retrieved her copy of the _New York Times_. With the paper tucked securely under her arm, she ambled over to the kitchen where she turned on the drip coffeemaker she had set up the night before.

While waiting for her coffee, she wandered over to inspect her potted daisies located out on her tiny apartment windowsill. Noticing some petals wilting, Connie picked up her little watering spray to dampen the petals slightly. Every morning the bright, cheery flowers helped to welcome the day for her.

Nothing exciting about her life, yet nothing to complain about, either.

The aroma from the freshly brewed coffee filled her senses and she went over to pour some into the mug. As she brought the warm morning drink to her lips, she glanced over to her calendar, wondering what she could do for the next three weeks. Get a new wardrobe? Too many budget constraints. Redecorate? There were time limitations. Traveling? Budget AND time restrictions time three.

Her private thoughts were interrupted with the ring of her cellphone on the kitchen table. Glancing over, there was only one person she wished to be on the other end of that phone.

Mike.

Then she berated herself for that thought. Of all the people she knew, why was _he_ the first person on her mind? Wasn't she supposed to be thinking of anything else _but_ work? Somehow it bothered her that her initial thoughts had been of her boss as she picked up her phone.

"Hello?"

A different male's voice simply said, "Connie."

With such a short introduction, it was hard to know who was on the other line, but her heart slightly sank at the knowledge that it was definitely not Mike on the other end.

"Who is this?" she inquired.

"Connie, it's me."

She held her breath, as recognition sunk in.

"Doug, " Connie immediately felt a sharp pang at the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath, "It's been awhile."

Doug Merrick.

Connie hadn't given him a thought in almost seven years. Their parting had not been exactly amiable, since she was the one who had broken it off. And now out of the blue, he calls.

_What do you say to a former fiancé?_

"Hey…how are you?" Doug asked, his voice sounding uncomfortably tense.

"I'm just…fine," Connie stated, trying to buy some time over the awkward situation, "Why are you…um…well, what I mean to say is that... this call is so _unexpected, _Doug... "

Connie hoped he wasn't calling to rehash their relationship.

"Yeah, I figured it would be a shock to hear from me," he stated evenly, "It's just that I…"

His voice faltered, as if he had difficulty continuing.

"Doug?" Connie almost thought they had lost reception, "Doug? Are you still there? What is it?"

She heard him take a deep breath.

"Connie…" he began with difficulty, "It's just…I fell into some trouble…and…and I didn't know who else to call."

Alarms went off in her head. This definitely was not a social call.

"Doug, tell me what is the matter," Connie stated insistently.

He made a choking noise.

"Connie," his voice was laced with desperation, "I've been arrested. For murder."

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Mike Cutter sat in his office. He had a stack of files on his desk but he sat back, lost in thought.

He had just successfully prosecuted a case where an office worker was found guilty of suffocating a cleaning lady and stuffing her mutilated body parts in the air duct of a Manhattan building. The details of the crime were pretty gruesome, with the defendant given the maximum sentence of 25 years to life. But as Mike eased back on his chair, his mind had drifted away from the case.

And he found himself staring into Connie's empty office.

What was wrong with him, he thought. It wasn't as if she was going to be gone permanently. She deserved some time off. Connie was probably having the time of her life while he sat waiting for his next assigned case.

Or he sat waiting for her to come back, he thought ruefully.

His Blackberry had been sitting on his desk when it suddenly buzzed, bringing him out of his revelry.

For a split second his heart leapt at the chance it might be her, but as he looked at his screen, he saw it was an unlisted number. He heaved a disappointed sigh as he reached over and retrieved his phone.

"Cutter here."

"Hey, Buddy boy, how's it going?"

The tone was playful, and the recognizable voice caught Mike by surprise.

"Josh?" Mike questioned, "Is that you?"

"Who frigging else could it be but yours truly?"

Josh Lethem was a former prosecutor in the New York City DA's office who, during his tenure there, always seemed to butt heads with DA Jack McCoy. When McCoy gave Josh his walking papers, Josh managed to get a job at the DA's office in Boston. Although known to be gratingly pompous, those qualities were what made him one of the most successful prosecutory attorneys in the New England area.

"So what is it that you want, Josh?" Mike asked impatiently, as he looked at all the paperwork he had to muddle through this afternoon.

"Is _that_ any way to greet an old friend?" Josh casually asked, " besides, what makes you think I want something from you just because I called you?"

"Because, as you had already mentioned, we are old friends," Mike stated truthfully, "and experience has taught me well."

"Riiight, I'll give you that!" Josh admitted, "So, I guess, then, we can skip the preliminary small talk?"

"Agreed," Mike said.

"Well then… I'm calling to offer you a proposition, Mikey."

Uh-oh.

"Is it possible for me to turn you down _before_ I even hear it?" Mike asked wistfully.

"Oh haha…no, wait...just hear me out, buddy boy…" Josh titillated

Mike rubbed his temple. Everytime Josh said "just hear me out", it meant trouble.

"You've got two minutes, Josh."

"Al_right_, Mikey! … " Josh sounded gleeful, "Get _this_…You've heard of the Merrick family here in Boston, right? Of course you have… Merrick's Clam Chowder, right? Like they advertise: The best clam chowder this side of the Charles River!"

"Yes, I know of them," Mike responded, sounding a bit impatient, "So, get to the point, Josh."

"It seems," Josh said, "that the Merrick's family troubles have gained in more notoriety these days than their clam chowder."

Mike was well aware of that fact. Even in New York City, he had vaguely followed the recent media coverage of the murder of wealthy business tycoon Tom Merrick, allegedly by his younger brother Douglas Merrick.

"And?" Mike asked, having a sinking feeling that Josh was going to somehow involve him in this case.

"_And_…if you didn't read it already…I'm the prosecuting attorney on the Merrick case!" Josh announced proudly.

"Congratulations," Mike stated dryly.

"_…but _that's not all…" Josh sounded as if he were withholding the best news in the world, "I need someone to be second chair on this case and I thought of _you,_ my best legal eagle buddy!"

Mike rubbed the back of his neck frustratingly, "Josh, in case I haven't told you, I'm an EADA in the city of New York. That means I am usually the _lead_ attorney on cases here. Why would I want to drive four hours out of my way to be in a supportive role on a case outside of my jurisdiction?"

"Perhaps I've worded it wrong," Josh backtracked, "Technically we would be _partners. _I will be the lead attorney in name only…"

Who was Josh trying to fool?

"Take the shovel job somewhere else, Josh," Mike told his friend, "besides, I have my own cases to try here."

"Oh, but, this is not just _any_ case…it's _the_ case!" Josh said excitedly, "We are talking the _numero uno_ of high profile cases! We are talking a make-a-name-for-ourselves case! Especially since that Douglas Merrick is as guilty as sin! Once I present my case, he'll be convicted in no time, I guarantee it! I just, uh, need someone to…uh…to help consult on the case…."

Mike knew what that meant. Josh was going to use Mike's expertise to prosecute his case.

"Josh, I have responbilities here I need to attend to, " argued Mike, "it's not like I can just drop everything and—"

"—and nothing," interrupted Josh, "I know you've just wrapped up a case…congrats on the conviction, by the way. And as far as _this _case goes, my boss has already smoothed everything over with your DA over there. Turns out McCoy owed my boss a favor, you see."

"Josh-" began Mike again, "I just can't-"

"What are you saying? You can't help an old friend?" Josh suddenly had a sound of vulnerability, "Okay, let me take one more stab at this…". He then took a deep breath and this time his tone was uncharacteristically humble, "Look, Mike, I know I act all confident and all, but dammit, you gotta _know,_ this is scaring the bejesus outta me! Help me out, buddy boy! I _need_ you…"

"I cannot believe you are asking this of me, Josh…"

Josh licked his lips, "It's not just for me! I mean, don't you ever want to get away? You know, be somewhere else? Come on! You've always loved Boston!"

Mike took a quick glance at Connie's empty office again.

_Damn!_

Somehow the offer _did_ sound enticing. It would be so nice to get out of the city for awhile And he _did_ like the challenge of prosecuting a high profile murder case.

But working with Josh Lethem? And only as second chair?

"Let me sleep on it, Josh," Mike said, "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"I'd _knew_ you'd do it, Mikey…"

"Josh, I didn't say…"

"I've been worried sick since this case started, " Josh explained, "It's got my stomach all in knots, you know? So if you can be here for me, you'd be the best pal ever! It'll be like old times in law school! I've already booked you a room at the Ritz-Carlton. Nothing too grand for my number one consultant!"

"Josh, this is really…"

"Salts." Josh said.

Mike furrowed his forehead, "Salts? What?"

"Dinner at the four star Salts Restaurant in Cambridge. For you, it's first class all the way, buddy boy! You'll love this place! Hard to get in, but, count on me for connections!"

"Josh, this is going so quickly…"

"Better start packing, Mikey!" Josh had stopped listening to Mike, enjoying the sound of his own voice, "_Lethem and Cutter_ are about to turn the Boston legal system on its ear! Hmmm…_Lethem and Cutter_…kinda has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Mike rubbed his temple with his hand.

On the other hand it might help to get his mind off of …his work here, he thought, as he gave a final glance at Connie's barren office. His decision had been made.

"So, Josh, what time are we meeting for dinner?"

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(So happy to be back! I have been busy typing away the last three months and have already _completed_ writing this story, so you will be getting regular updates, I promise!)

I especially hope you stay around for the court proceedings; Mike and Connie against each other in court make for a fun read! (keep in mind: for entertainment purposes only!)

_Personal disclaimer: I do not have background in law, so if I have taken some legal liberties, I apologize!_

.

_All reviews are most appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

Meet and Greet

Chapter 2

Boston's business hub was bustling the morning Connie entered the city. There were thousands of people on their way to work, sharply dressed yuppies hurrying to their offices, cappuccinos and café lattes in hand.

As Connie stepped out of her taxi, there seemed to be a certain unstated orderliness to Boston, unlike the usual chaos accompanying New York City's pedestrian's rush hour.

Connie had found out that her ex, Doug Merrick, had already retained an attorney and she had a scheduled meeting with Doug and his attorney, James Middleton, in his office.

Middleton's office was located in one of the district's skyscrapers, tall for Boston but not for New York standards. The elevator ascended quickly to the fifteenth floor.

As was the procedure in most offices, Connie was greeted by a receptionist who accompanied her down a long hallway to the last door on the right.

When she entered the room, James Middleton was perched on the edge of his desk. He was a distinguished-looking white-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses who looked as though he should be a stockbroker, not an attorney.

And across from him, Connie could make out the back of Douglas Merrick. Upon hearing her entrance, he turned and stood, his face suddenly lighting up at her presence.

Gathering her confidence, she walked over and stood face to face with Doug, a man she had once thought would be her future. With his blonde good looks, he hadn't changed much, although there were a few more laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He reached out and took hold of her hands, his smile appearing unsure.

"Connie," Doug said her name almost in awe, "It's wonderful you're here. You _look _absolutely amazing."

Her heart gave one swift thump at his welcoming gaze. It felt strange to feel his touch again, although his hands seemed to be trembling in hers.

"Doug," her smile seemed a little stiff as she purposely let go of his grasp.

Connie didn't know what to expect upon her first sight of him again after all these years, but she certainly didn't expect to feel…neutral. It was almost the same kind of reaction she would have upon seeing a very dear schoolmate. When they initially touched hands, there was no lost stirrings, no excitement. She wondered now if she had ever had strong feelings for him.

As she peered again into his face, she recalled the many times she had gazed into his green eyes. Funny how they no longer held her interest. It was as if they lacked a certain sparkle, a sense of mischievousness. They also didn't make her blood quicken with restless heat like when she was gazing into the blueness of _his_ eyes.

Where did _that_ thought come from? Connie thought, stunned that her mind had gravitated once again to fleeting thoughts of Mike.

Nearby, James Middleton, the attorney, gave Connie a commanding stare, "Miss…Rubirosa, is it? My name is James Middleton. The Merrick Estate has me on retainer as their lawyer, but evidently, Douglas has his own mind, for he wishes _you_ to be his counsel."

Middleton's tone was slightly condescending, as if he felt Doug were an unreasonable tot and she were a first year law student.

Douglas lifted his chin defiantly to Middleton, "I do not need my family to decide my fate for me, James...I have a right to choose whomever I want to defend me!"

Connie looked back at Doug. For the three years she had been with him, she never remembered him being defiant when it came to family matters. Perhaps people do change for the better.

Middleton stared at Merrick, "I couldn't have been that bad, Douglas...after all I got you out on bail, didn't I?"

Doug let out a sound almost like a grunt.

"For two million dollars, a _serial killer_ would have been set free on bail!" he claimed.

Middleton visibly rolled his eyes as Douglas Merrick now turned pleadingly back to Connie.

"Connie! You must know that I would never do anything so horrendous as…as murder!…You've got to help me! Please tell me you will take the case!"

Connie's head was spinning. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly.

"I-I…"

She was at a loss for words as she looked from Middleton to Merrick.

James Middleton cleared his throat, "Well, Douglas, with Miss Rubirosa's ability to articulate so impressively, I can see why you have chosen her as your attorney."

"Oh, do be quiet, James," said Doug, annoyed.

"Doug," Connie tried to diffuse the situation, "I'm sure Mr. Middleton is a fine lawyer, and if he already knows your case…"

But even Middleton was waving aside the idea, "Think nothing of it. After seeing you in person, Miss Rubirosa, I could see why he prefers _you_."

The inference was pretty clear that Middleton did not think much of Connie's prosecutory abilities and was judging her solely on her physical attributes.

"I assure you, Mr. Middleton," Connie's eyes flashed, "That if I _do_ take this case, I am more than capable of defending Doug!"

"Fine, fine…" Middleton seemed to brush her comment aside, "I just ask that the two of you allow me to work in an advisory capacity so that I may earn my keep."

Doug turned back to Connie, "Connie, please, if ever I needed you…"

Connie read the desperation in Doug's voice. It seemed as if he had _always _needed her. That was one of the reasons she had broken up with him. She should refuse him, walk away, but …to reject him with a murder charge hovering over him seemed heartless.

"Before I proceed further, Doug, I really need to hear more about the case…"

Douglas gave a loud sigh of relief as a smile out on his face.

"Thank you, Connie! Thank you!"

He then turned to Middleton, "…so if you will excuse us, James, I need to talk legal matters with my _new_ counsel."

Middleton merely shrugged his shoulder.

"Suit yourself, Douglas…I have other legal matters to attend to anyway," Middleton got up," I'll allow the use of my office so that you two can get better acquainted…with the case, that is."

His words seemed to indicate something more.

And with a nod, he was gone.

"Please! Please sit down, Connie, " Douglas stated enthusiastically as he once again took a seat and they were alone. Never once did he take his eyes off of her.

"Doug," Connie needed to make it very clear to him, "You stated something about being arrested for murder? You do understand that I am not a defense lawyer?"

"Neither is that pompous clown Middleton," responded Doug, "he's one of my family's many business lawyers. He can write a contract, but defending someone in a trial is a whole different matter."

"Who exactly were you accused of killing, Doug?" Connie asked.

Doug took a deep breath.

"_My brother!_ Can you believe it?" Douglas sounded stressed, as Connie showed surprise at the mention of his older brother's name.

"_Tom_ was murdered?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to hear that…my condolences," Connie stated softly.

"Yeah," Doug responded bitterly, "I will miss him a lot. Plus he was the one who ran Merrick Enterprises."

"Does that mean the business is yours now?"

Doug shook his head, "No, not at all. You know me-I was never interested in the clam chowder business, so with Dad and now Tom dead, it falls into the hands of my uncles. I'm not worry about the company, though. It will survive this."

Connie nodded and then tried to tread as gently as possible, "I'm sorry to have to ask you this now, but if I am to be your attorney, I need to ask you a few questions."

Doug nodded, "You've always been the strong one, Connie. I could always count on you. If you need some answers, ask away."

Connie couldn't believe all this was happening. A decade or so ago, she had thought he was the perfect match for her. What attraction had he held for her? Why had she thought he would have made a great husband? she wondered. She remembered loving the fact that he was loyal, smart and uncomplicated, but now she could see that those are qualities more suited for a pet dog.

"Alright, Doug," stated Connie, "just to get the preliminaries out of the way, how was Tom murdered?"

"…He was stabbed in the chest. My god, Connie! You _know_ I could never do that!" Doug was shaking his head back and forth, "_I just couldn't_!"

Connie nodded understandably.

"And what, " she asked, "did the prosecution state was the motive for you to murder your brother? Do they even have one?"

"Oh yes," Doug nodded emphatically, "They say I killed him because Tom, as the head trustee, threatened to cut me out of the family trust."

"But why would your brother do that?" Connie asked, "Did you two have a falling out?"

Douglas shook his head, "No, not really…"

Connie could tell Doug was not telling everything.

"Not really? What is _that_ suppose to mean?"

He looked down at his hands, choosing his words carefully.

"It's means," Douglas began, "that Tom had threatened to cut me out of the trust based upon a clause in the turst which stated he could do that if I were ever arrested for a crime. So I was very careful not to get on the wrong side of law, no DUI's, not anything!"

"Clauses with conditions are not unusual for trust funds, Doug, but, just so I am clear, " Connie restated, "You were to be cut from the will if you were arrested? Did you do something to nullify your share of the trust?"

Doug's face showed embarrassment, "Yes," he stated quietly, obviously not wanting to continue.

"So you had gotten yourself in trouble with the law," Connie stated it as a fact, "What were you arrested for, Doug?"

"It had happened a year ago," Douglas lifted his eyes evenly to her, "I was accused of…" he paused and took a deep breath, "of rape...but I was innocent of that, too!"

_Of rape._ The room became silent as Connie worked to recover from another shock.

"Doug," Connie looked flabbergasted, "this is so overwhelming. I had no idea all of this had been happening to you."

"You see why I need you?" Doug insisted, "Please, Connie, I have so much to tell you! I _want_ the opportunity to explain myself!"

"Alright, " Connie agreed, as she looked at her watch, "But it's getting rather late."

Doug relaxed, "How about dinner? I know a perfect place to go with _lots_ of privacy so that we can talk! It's a very chic, exclusive restaurant in Cambridge…it's called Salts."

Connie smiled for the first time that day, "Sounds perfect!"

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A high- end bistro, the Salts Restaurant in Cambridge was known as the one of Boston's best. Mike liked the ambiance of the place. It reminded him of the upscale restaurant, The Odeon, in New York City.

_The Odeon_.

His eyes smiled with amusement when he recalled the last time he was there, for he had been there with Connie. Well, if he were to be honest with himself, not _with_ her _per se_, for they were there with a definite purpose.

_From a table hidden from view, he and Connie watch as Judge Reynolds and his law clerk Carly were dining together. Not that much interaction was going on for the judge seemed to be staring straight ahead while Carly was immersed in some legal papers._

_"I wished I hadn't skipped the law school course on spying on judges," Connie had stated casually, looking eternally endearing as she clumsily sipped her drink from a straw, looking forever like a mischievous school girl._

_Mike's goal was to get Judge Reynolds alone, but all he could think of was how much he was enjoying playing "spy" with Connie._

_As Carly got up to leave the table, Mike knew he needed to set his plan to work, although what he wished instead was that he and Connie were sharing an intimate meal together._

_So he turned to Connie and quipped, "Lock her in a stall if you have to."_

_The air had gone out of his lungs when he saw the bright smile she gave back to him before she disappeared into the ladies' room._

_To Mike, it felt as if the sunshine had been taken from the room after she had left._

The sound of glasses clinking and low conversations brought Mike back to the present of being at a Bostonian restaurant.

He was having dinner with Josh to discuss the Merrick case. They had already ordered their dinners, along with some drinks.

Josh looked ecstatic that Mike was seated across from him.

"You've made it here in Boston just in time, buddy boy," Josh was saying as a bowls of lobster bisque were placed in front of them, "Jury selection starts tomorrow."

"Oh?" asked Mike as he tasted his soup, "And why is it important that I am there during this phase of the proceedings?"

"I've always admired your gut instincts," Josh explained as he sipped his soup, "So while I question the potential jurors, I want you to watch closely and take in even the smallest of details. You know how it goes. Watch their facial expressions; whether they wince at something I ask them, or smile or frown."

"I've done this before, Josh," Mike stated, "You will notice _what_ they say while I will notice _ho_w they say it..."

"Pre-cise-ly!" Josh was excited, "Together, we will have a compilation of what they're about: their general background, prejudices, beliefs, loves and hates. That's what I mean by a partnership!"

"And here I thought we were going to go for the 'eenie- meenie- miney- moe' method of selecting jurors,'" Mike drolly said.

"Haha! That's funny! Maybe you could supply us with the humor in the courtroom," suggested Josh.

"I don't think humor will be much appreciated in a _murder_ trial, Josh," Mike pointed out.

They talked about how Josh was building a case against Merrick. Douglas Merrick would be presented as a vengeful brother who had a strong motive for killing Tom Merrick in order to remain on the trust. Although his girlfriend will testify that he had been with her at the time of the murder, Josh felt he could easily invalidate that alibi. Having a girlfriend or a spouse as an alibi was almost like having no one as a witness. Plus hair and fibers belonging to Douglas Merrick was found at the crime scene.

"Open and shut case," Josh claimed, as the waitress brought over their dinner plates.

"By the way," Mike asked, as he took a bite of his Bergamot cured ocean trout, "Any idea who the defense attorney will be on the case?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably before masking his awkwardness with bafflement.

"Beats me," he declared, cutting into his rib-eye steak, "although there are some rumors swirling about. Supposedly Merrick is bringing in some high fallutin' lawyer to head his defense team."

"As always," Mike stated, "the rich will get the best that money can buy."

"Not that it matters _this_ time," Josh assured him, "Our case is rock solid. Whoever takes over for the defense, I'm sure we can handle that person, _no problemo_!"

Mike nodded confidently, too.

"From everything you've shown me of the case," noted Mike, "the opposing counsel should be a cinch to defeat."

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_Thanks for all the kind words!_

_Please review_


	3. Chapter 3

A Realization

Chapter 3

An off-beat alternative to Boston, Cambridge was a charming neighborhood mixing the old New England style with a new youthful vitality. Located just a bridge away on the other side of the Charles River, the area was book-ended between the academic powerhouses of Harvard and MIT schools.

As the limousine drove through the town, Connie eagerly looked out the window. Even in the darkness she could see it was a city filled with bookstores, coffeehouses, art-house cinemas and eclectic neighborhood bars. Despite its commercial laden streets. the area still managed to have a vintage feel about it, with its cobblestone streets and antique colonial signs.

"Have you dined at Salts before?" Doug asked Connie, as the limo made its way down Main Street.

"No, but I've heard good things about the place," responded Connie, who could not remember when was the last time she ate.

"I think their duck is divine," he recommended.

Connie turned back to admire the city lights at night. She did a double take when the limo drove passed a family- run Chinese restaurant. She suddenly had a yearning for Chinese food, imagining all the white takeout boxes that used to be spread out all on the table at the DA's office in New York.

Connie could picture sitting across from Mike as they discussed a case and every now and then he would say something humorously snide, making her smile or laugh. She thought of his fondness for teasing her and suddenly she had a feeling of…yearning. She missed his companionship.

"Connie, I'm scared," Doug admitted, as he sat next to her, "What will become of me?"

His expression showed fear and apprehension.

Connie wanted to believe Doug she knew back then wouldn't have the nerve to even argue with his older brother, much less do him harm. When it came to dealing with his family, Doug was like a doormat.

Back then, what she had like about him was his outlook on life, his easygoing ways. But then, why _wouldn't_ he be that way if everything had been handed to him and he had no stress in his life?

Connie turned to give him a reassuring smile.

"We will take it one step at a time, Doug," Connie said.

"You think I can beat the charge?" Doug asked, "I just can't go to prison…_can't!"_

"There are no guarantees when it comes to a trial, juries are unpredictable," Connie stated truthfully, "but luckily for you, you do have an alibi."

"Yeah," Doug said, sitting back, slightly more relieved, "I just hope it's enough."

"If your alibi holds, it will be proof that you are innocent," Connie said and then added, "but right now, I have a concern about the assault accusation."

"The assault?" Doug scowled.

"Doug," said Connie, looking him squarely in the face, "I am going to ask you something and you must be completely truthful about it…what about this prior rape charge?"

Doug's expression turned to one of distress.

"The rape? It's nothing! _Nothing!_…that woman recanted…" Doug looked even more upset, if that were possible, "And why would it matter? That happened a year ago!" Doug then leaned in closer to Connie, "I swear to you, Connie, _I did not rape anyone!"_

"Doug, I want to believe everything that you say," Connie said, "and I need you to be honest with me at all times."

"Everything I stated is the truth!" he spoke with conviction, "This whole thing has been a nightmare…one day, my life is perfect and the next, _this_! I'm so confused!"

"I wish I could tell you not to worry," Connie said, "but the best one can hope for is that the truth will eventually come out on trial."

"And that truth is that I am innocent," Doug repeated again. He worriedly ran his hand through his hair, "So, Connie, what will be your strategy in defending me?"

"It's premature to say now until I go over all the facts." pointed out Connie, " But the way I see it, jurors will not be able to empathize with a person whose lifestyle they cannot relate to, so our first hurdle to overcome is to humanize you, to make you seem like everyman, a regular guy."

Doug did a half-smile, making him look boyish, "So you're saying it's a disadvantage for me to be born with a silver spoon…"

She returned his smile, "Only in this case, Doug..."

His smile dissipated as he looked solemnly at her, "Connie, why did we ever…"

Connie knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"No, Doug," Connie shook her head sadly, "I don't think this is the time to discuss us. That is past history."

The backseat of the limousine remained quiet for a time.

Connie noted that she had been sitting so close to Doug that their shoulders were almost touching. Yet she did not understand why she felt so distant from him. Not that she expected the heavens to open up or anything, but here was someone that she thought she had been in love with, so shouldn't there be some residual feelings for him? He had been a major part of her life for three years.

But he was now a stranger to her.

Even when she thought back, Doug never captured her attention, her emotions, all her waking thoughts like…well, like Mike.

This time she allowed her mind to drift to how vibrant and hopelessly blue Mike's eyes were. She liked the way he'd would be deep in thought and then an idea would come over him suddenly he would lift his head, and give her a smile that never failed to dazzle. Or the way his forehead would furrow as he'd worriedly tossed his baseball back and forth during a case. How she already missed his little nuances.

Why was she thinking of her boss this way, anyway?

"Connie," Doug broke into her thoughts, "is everything alright? You seem…not here... so lost in thought."

"Oh! Sorry Doug, I was thinking…about New York City," Connie fudged the truth slightly, "You know how it is when you can't get something out of your head."

Or _someone…_

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.

Mike and Josh were just finishing up their meal at the Salts Restaurant.

"So what we need as far as jurors go," Josh explained, "is a jury of real people, men and women who didn't finish college… better yet, who never stepped foot in a university."

"In hopes of them not being able to relate to the heir of the Merrick Clam Chowder fortune?" Mike asked.

"Precisely, my friend!" Josh was smiling.

As Mike took another bite of his dinner, he felt, rather than saw someone slip beside him in his booth. Mike looked over at the dark haired man. Something about him looked so familiar.

"Josh," the familiar looking man nodded at Lethem, "We meet again."

"Well, Artie," Josh said, "Can't say I'm surprise to see you."

Mike's memory clicked. Artie. Artie _Shaw_. He was the producer of a reality-based show and one of Connie's old classmates.

_Mike smiled at the memory of the time he witnessed Connie from the front of the courthouse as she frustratingly had to "redo" her courthouse arrival scene for Artie Shaw's camera crew. It had been his and Jack's idea for her to cooperate with the reality show producer because she hated the idea of herself being filmed on camera._

_ "You having fun?" Mike had called her on his cellphone while he stayed hidden in one of the courthouse's columns. From there, he could watch her actions from across the street._

_ "I am going to kill you," promised Connie, angrily, emphatically, "and then I'm going to kill McCoy!"_

_ "On camera?" he couldn't help the grin._

_As Connie paced back and forth on the sidewalk, Mike thought she never looked more enticing._

_ "I don't…I don't care!" she insisted, "I'd be better off in prison!"_

"…I know what you are thinking, Mr. Cutter," Artie interrupted Mike's thoughts. He then reached in his jacket pocket, produced a mini-recorder and pushed the 'on button'.

"…you're thinking," Artie completed his thought, "'saay…isn't that the world renowned, Artie Shaw aka, the reality TV producer, sitting next to me_? _ _Why, yes it is!_ I would answer, _I was, but I've moved on. I'm now the main reporter for Court TV!"_

"_And_…" Mike couldn't mask his incredulity, "… _this_ is an improvement?"

Artie had to turn off the recorder, "Please Mr. Cutter, We must conduct ourselves in the most professional of manner. Sarcasm is not welcomed."

Artie then turned the recorder back on.

"So, Mr. Cutter…ready to begin jury selection tomorrow?" Artie asked.

The last thing Mike wanted to do was to be interviewed. He looked over at Josh, who brought both shoulders up in a quizzical '_what-can-you-do'_ gesture.

After getting no response from Mike, Artie reached over to turn off the recorder again.

"In order for this interview to work," Artie sounded slightly impatient, "_both_ sides have to speak up. This isn't a psychic interview where I read your mind."

Artie then turned the recorder back on.

"Mr. Cutter," Artie continued, "What will be your true involvement in the jury selection? How much input will you have?"

Mike was having none of this, "Excuse me…why are you here, Mr. Shaw?"

The recorder went off.

It was obvious Artie was working at controlling his annoyance.

"I am _here. _Mr. Cutter_,_ because Court TV covers a trial from gavel to gavel," Artie stated, patiently, "My job is to do interviews with the major players. And how could I not resist when NYC's top litigator comes a- knocking on such a high profile case?"

"I don't think I can comment," Mike declared.

"Sure you can!" assured Artie, gesturing, "Just talk into this little speaker here!"

Mike wondered how Artie Shaw even knew he was here.

"Mr. Shaw," Mike began, "Did Court TV plan to cover the Merrick trial _before _I agreed to help Josh Lethem or _after_?"

_Ahem._ Josh's throat clearing and shaking of the head was directed at Artie.

"You don't have to answer that, Artie," Josh quickly interjected, as Mike stared at him.

If anything, Artie looked pleased at the awkward situation he created between Lethem and Cutter. Dissidence already between the ranks! He turned on the recorder and repeated the question for the recorder.

"Mr. Cutter, _did you just ask me if we had plan to cover the Merrick trial before or after you climbed on board?_ The truth of matter is, I had planned on covering a celebrity trial in Hollywood, but with you joining the prosecution side on _this_ trial, it added a special _twist _to this case, if you know what I mean."

A twist? Mike internalized, whatever could Artie Shaw mean?

"Perhaps you should have just covered the other trial, " Mike suggested.

Artie upturned his mouth into what could only be described as a smirk, "…Are you kidding? When Josh told me about the new defense lawyer and then you coming on board, I had to cover _this_ story! Care to comment about the defense team?"

Now Mike reached over and turned off the recorder. He again looked at Josh, who was looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Josh, what is this?" Mike demanded to know from Josh, "I thought you didn't know who the defense lawyer was going to be. But you _do_ know, don't you?"

Josh looked flustered, "Like I told you, Mike…it was only a rumor! I couldn't say for certain, buddy boy!"

Mike let out a big heaving sigh.

"I don't understand _how_," Mike started to simmer, "but... am I somehow being used for some kind of publicity stunt for TV ratings?"

Artie tried to again reach over to turn _on_ the recorder, but Josh had reached over and roughly slapped Artie's hand to prevent the recorder button from being pushed.

"Ow!" yelped Artie, as he rubbed the back of his hand

"Do NOT turn on that recorder!" warned Josh before turning to Mike.

"Come on, Mike, this is me! Your old friend, _Josh_!" Josh announced, trying to look free from guilt.

"That's the problem, Josh, I _do_ know you," Mike stated, "but to what purpose are you using me? I wouldn't have thought…".

Mike never finished his sentence, for his eyes were glued to the entrance of the restaurant. The other two men turned in the direction Mike was looking.

Mike's eyes got huge as recognition set in, and he witnessed Connie entering the restaurant. He would recognize her anywhere, even if she had a paper bag over her entire body. Mike had certainly observed her every move enough.

Her walk was confident with a feminine flair.

His surprised expression, however, turned into a slight scowl at the sight of the blonde haired man behind her, who had his hand placed possessively on the small of Connie's back.

They were both shown to a table by the matre d' across the room. When they were both comfortably seated, the unknown male leaned in to whisper something intimately to her and Mike watched as she laughed.

Mike had thought he had memorized Connie's features by now but he obviously hadn't. Otherwise, why did she look beyond beautiful to him now?

Unable to tear his eyes away from her, Mike hated the thought of Connie spending time with another man. He had always assumed she was too busy pursuing a career and felt dating was frivolous. Obviously he didn't know her at all.

Wasn't she supposed to be on vacation? Mike asked himself. He felt a pang of jealousy when he realized that possibly the unknown male and Connie were on vacation _together._

So who was the man with her and why did he look so familiar?

"Why, what a coincidence!" Artie Shaw's voice sounded sing-songy, "Speaking of the Merrick case, there's the defendant over there now with our little Connie! For a guy accused of murder, he sure looks happy!"

Artie knew exactly what he was saying. He was determined to get some kind of reaction from Mike.

Mike seemed to be in a trance, but he forced himself to tear himself away from viewing Connie and the blonde-haired man to look in Artie's direction, "That's…Merrick?"

"Yes, Douglas Merrick—but I thought you already knew," Artie was saying, "I was just about to ask what you thought of your colleague, Miss Rubirosa, taking over the Merrick case."

It was as if Mike had been whacked on the face with a brick. As he worked to recover, he noted that the recorder had been turned back on.

"No…comment…" he absent-mindedly responded, thinking his throat felt like it had swallowed a dry desert.

"Look, Artie," defended Josh, at last, "Maybe this isn't the best time to talk with us. After all, my colleague just got in from New York. He hasn't even had a chance to unwind."

Mike had stop listening. He watched everything that was occurring at Connie's table. How she casually opened her menu. How she pointed and commented to Merrick about a specific item. How Merrick seemed mesmerized by her every word. How she smiled back at him and seemed to be having a wonderful time.

His whole body stiffened and even though he knew the longer he looked, the more it hurt, it was, like a car accident- he couldn't seem to look away.

Until he heard some rambling from Artie Shaw, which ended with, "…Miss Rubirosa and her _ex-fiance_…"

If Mike had been shocked before, he almost needed to be resuscitated now when he heard the part about _ex-fiance_. He turned slowly towards Artie Shaw, hoping he had heard wrong, the flashing green light of the recorder be damned.

"_What_?" Mike managed to say through the fog in his mind.

This time his friend Josh had the decency to reach over and turn off the recorder.

"Come on, Artie, give the guy a break!" Josh interrupted, "You're working for Court TV, not a salacious gossip magazine!"

"Sometimes they all blend in together as one, my friend." Artie admitted.

Artie gave it one more try with the recorder as he turned it on and then leaned in towards Mike, "Mr. Cutter, we just want to know how you feel about Merrick's ex-fiancé, Connie Rubirosa, defending him in court?"

Mike gave Artie a look that said this interview was definitely over.

"You better leave now, Mr. Shaw, " Mike warned in a low tone, "unless you want parts of your recorder spewed all over the floor."

…And later that night Artie Shaw was not able to find a single usable line from his tape recorder.

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_Please review_


	4. Chapter 4

It was only a matter of time…

Chapter 4

Due to this being a high profile case, jury selection would probably take at least two days.

Most people do not realize how difficult it is for attorneys on both sides to select jurors. The lawyers on both sides are expected to read the hearts and minds of hundreds of men and women, knowing that the fate of an accused defendant would be placed in the hands of these randomly selected strangers.

The next day, Mike and Josh were in Josh's office discussing the case before heading out to jury selection.

"You're still mad at me about not giving you all the facts about the defense attorney, aren't you?" Josh asked

"What did you expect, Josh," accused Mike, "You did not tell me _Connie_ was going to be first chair on the defense side!"

"I told you, Mikey, I didn't know!" Josh claimed, "Look, I just happened to be dating one of the clerks who works for Merrick's lawyer, and she _happened_ to notice Rubirosa was in the conference room with her lawyer boss and Merrick. That could be interpreted many ways. Maybe it was just friends getting together to talk. Or she was checking out office space for a friend. Or she was there as an advisor. Who knows? _How was I to know for sure that Connie was going to be the defense lawyer_?"

"But the strongest possibility was that Connie was there for the Merrick case, especially since Merrick was in on the meeting, right?" Mike couldn't help the bitterness in his voice.

"Mikey, all of this is water under the bridge…let's just proceed with the case!" Josh pleaded.

Mike rubbed his temple, "Perhaps I should just head on back to New York City…I've got a lot to do there anyway…"

Josh knew he'd better do some fast talking.

"And leave me out in the cold? Come on, buddy! You gave me your _word_, right?" Josh was desperate, grasping at straws, "Remember when I saved your hide that time you had photo-shopped Professor Ryan's head onto a grizzly bear and passed it around the class? It's payback time now! You owe me!"

"Josh, you are making apples to oranges comparisons," Mike countered, "What you cited was a _prank _that occurred eons ago and this is withholding valuable information regarding the defense team in a high exposure case!"

"Hey! You're frustrated with the wrong person!" Josh pointed out, "Is it _my_ fault you and Rubirosa don't talk? Aren't you two friends as well as colleagues? She was the one who blindsided you, not me! Let's put the blame where it belongs!"

Mike had no response to that.

Why _hadn't_ Connie mentioned anything to him about taking on this case, Mike pondered and what _did_ Connie mean to him?

He had thought of Connie and him as working colleagues, but sometimes there seemed to be more. The whole Marcus Woll debacle seemed to be a turning point for them. It was as if they both became aware of…something _different_ happening between them. At least he had hope.

Until now.

Up until he saw Connie with her ex-fiancé. They had appeared so natural, so cozy together at that restaurant last night. All the possibilities he had created in his mind regarding him and Connie was just that…a figment of his imagination.

_I was a fool_, he thought.

"Josh, you go ahead with the jury selection," Mike decided, "I'll stay behind."

Josh looked uncertain, "You sure? You're not just going to take off, now, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving, " Mike stated, "In fact, my plan is to drop by the murder scene this afternoon. The ironic part is that it might actually help cheer me up," he said wryly.

Josh perked up.

"So does that mean you've decided to stay to help me?" Josh asked wistfully.

_Is_ that what it meant? Mike asked himself as he looked at his friend. Josh looked so desperate. Besides, why _should_ he quit now? Mike internalized, there were no emotional feelings involved with this case, right?

"Yes, I'm staying," relented Mike, "After all, it's just like what you've said…I never quit in the middle of something."

Josh flashed his biggest smile, "That's my buddy boy!"

"Just go to your jury selection," Mike said to Josh, "by the time you get back, I should also be back and maybe we can grab a quick bite afterwards."

Josh breathed out a huge sense of relief.

"Thanks, buddy," Josh responded appreciatively, "You really had me going there for a minute!"

Mike watched as Josh started packing some paper into his briefcase. Silently Mike tried to think of how he could stay in the background for the case, perhaps even avoid facetime in court. That's what a consultant usually does, anyway…be the behind-the-scene person.

Then he shook his head. When was he _ever_ in the background?

But he didn't want to think about that now. Because then that would mean he would have to think about what it would feel like to face Connie on opposite sides of the courtroom. Right now he would just concentrate on the case at hand and go to the scene of the murder.

He would think about facing her in court later on.

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The courthouse in which the Merrick trial was held was one of two massive buildings on a piazza behind the Center Plaza Building. The modern structure was impressive and so unlike the NYC courthouse back home, with its pilastered façade and colonnated entrance.

The Merrick's case was officially in full swing as prosecutor Josh Lethem and defense lawyer Connie Rubirosa questioned prospective jurors.

Connie was brilliant as she questioned each person thoroughly. Many of these questions brought a series of objections from Josh, which seem to spur her to greater eloquence, as she reveled in the combat.

It was obvious that both sides were not looking for twelve open-minded, fair and impartial people. Instead, the game was to pick as many jurors who might have a predisposition to the prosecution's or defense's own perspective side.

Late afternoon they broke for the rest of the day. Connie was already exhausted, but satisfied that both of them had agreed to a handful of jurors.

Connie and Douglas Merrick came out of double wooden doors and walked outside to the marble-floored hallway.

"How do you think that went, Connie?" Doug asked, as he turned and watched her, "The prosecutor… Lethem, was his name, right?…he was pretty good, but you were better in there!."

Connie sighed, "I didn't like how Josh –that is, Mr. Lethem- used his preemptive rights to dismiss two people I wanted on the jury!"

"But you got four others in, right?" Doug pointed out.

Connie grinned, "That, I did!"

Doug paused slightly, "_Josh_. You called him by his first name. Do you know him?"

He almost sounded jealous. Connie tried to act dismissive as she explained how they had worked together in the DA's office before Jack had fired him.

"…and that's when Jack hired Mi-, my next boss…" Connie ended, not wanting anything to sound personal.

"Okay, just so there's nothing for me to worry about," Doug announced.

Connie looked slightly bothered by Doug's inferred last comment. Surely Doug was not thinking of restarting their relationship?

"Doug," Connie began, "Just to make it clear, I am only here in the capacity as your lawyer."

"Oh, of course…I know we have a past, and I know it's over…but it just still bothers me if I saw you with someone, you know?" Doug didn't look or sound convincing.

"Don't worry," Connie assured him, "I do not date colleagues."

_Anymore,_ she added silently in her mind.

Doug smiled.

"Good to hear," he responded before changing subjects, "…so, Connie…do you think we'll have a jury picked by tomorrow?"

"I certainly hope so," Connie replied..

"God, I just want this whole thing over with!" Doug exclaimed "…and you said we have a pretty good case for acquittal, right?"

"I think so," Connie said, "However, I'm worried that we have been unable to locate your girlfriend, Cynthia."

Cynthia Morgan had been reported missing. She was Doug Merrick's girlfriend and his alibi for the night of the murder.

"Yeah," Doug's face fell, "I don't know where Cindy could be…it's not like her..."

Connie hoped they found Cynthia Morgan before the case got underway. So where was she? Had she decided to take an inopportune vacation? Did she leave of her own volition, or did someone force her to leave?

"Say, Connie," suggested Doug, "How about you and me get something to eat? I really enjoyed the dinner we had together last night."

Connie shot a questioning glance at Doug. He sure seemed unconcerned for a person whose girlfriend was missing, not to mention, being on trial for murder. Plus she didn't want to lead him on.

"It's been a full day for me," Connie forced a smile, "May I take a raincheck?."

Doug tried to hide his disappointment, "Yeah..sure…no problem…I need to go do some stuff, anyways."

A part of Connie wondered what a man who never worked a day in his life, had no responsibilities, and possessed all the money in the world, could possibly need to do.

"Alright, I'll catch up with you later," Connie promised as she watched Doug walk away.

The rest of the day was hers.

Usually she would spend it pouring over the case, but right now, she felt like relaxing. At least for a couple of hours.

Connie looked at her watch. She deserved some time to herself.

So instead of thinking of the case, Connie played tourist, opting to take a stroll by herself through the bumpy quilt-covered brick sidewalks and gas lit lamps of Beacon Street.

She stopped at the Parish Café and Bar and ordered a cappuccino as she sat on the outside patio and watched the world go by. The sky was a beautiful cobalt-blue with a refreshing breeze blowing through her hair and abundant sunshine everywhere.

And despite trying her best not to, her mind wandered to Mike.

She wondered if he were in court right now. She could see herself sitting next to him at the prosecution table as he tried a case; she had always been so impressed with his mental acumen, style and manner in court.

Of course, sometimes that brilliancy worked against him.

_She recalled one time when Mike had made an impressive argument in family court, and it eventually came to hurt him with a ruling against him on his own case. He later humorously recounted the story, stating that he was now known as "Boomerang Mike."_

She smiled to herself at the wry way he stated _Boomerang Mike._

From the open patio of the restaurant, she had a perfect view of Public Gardens Park. The garden was embedded with various flowers of blazing colors and exotic imported trees. In the middle of the lush garden was a lovely lake, which housed the "Swan Boats" rides, famously the inspiration for the children's books "Make Way for the Ducklings" and "Trumpets of the Swan".

And now that lovely park area will also be known as the scene where Tom Merrick had a knife plunged into his chest.

After paying for her drink at the cafe, she decided to wander over to the Swan Boats, not sure if it was to view the boats or the murder scene, which, in reality, were one in the same anyway.

Settled in the midst of the picturesque flowers and trees, the pedal-powered Swan Boats glided serenely across the large pond, much like how they had over a century ago. The squeals of happy children could be heard as they dashed to and fro at the pond, some waiting their turns to take a ride on the boats, their laughter contagious.

How could this ever be the scene of a murder? She thought, as she approached the area. Connie had read how Tom Merrick had been stabbed while in one of the boats as it sat moored that night, along with the five other swan vessels.

She was still a distance away when suddenly she halted and goosebumps went all up her back.

_Her eyes must be playing tricks on her._

All thoughts of the peaceful scenery, the idle children happy screams, and the horrendous crime flew out of her mind when she spotted a familiar male form. She became absurdly aware of her own breathing as all matters of the surrounding area ceased to exist.

Mike

He was at a distance, but she knew it was him, for there was no one quite like him. He stood quietly, stately, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Wearing one of his classic dark suits with a sharp tie, he seemed absorbed with his own thoughts as he paced around the Swan Boat area.

Still unable to breathe regularly, Connie took a step back, wondering if it was too late to escape. She felt numb inside. Meanwhile she watched as Mike contemplatively scanned over the calm waters of the pond.

_What was Mike doing in Boston?_

Connie silently ran through various conversations she had had with him before her departure. He had not mentioned any travel plans.

Her mind told her to turn back, but she remained rooted, observing his pensiveness. She wondered what he could be thinking. Even though she was too far away, she knew his forehead must be furrowed, deep in thought. There were times she wanted to reach up and gently rub those worry lines away.

Then as if he _knew, _a knowing expression crossed his face and he turned to the exact spot where she was standing.

Their gazes locked and Connie could feel the full impact of his stare.

So many emotions flitted through her mind just as she stood there, gazing back at him… there was pleasure, shock, and wonderment all rolled up into one.

She struggled for composure, and her heart was beating erratically.

And then as if they were in a movie with a slow-motion feature, she watched as he turned her way and headed towards her. A slight breeze suddenly came up, ruffling his hair gently in a most attractive manner.

Why was she having this kind of reaction to him? she wondered, as she remained rooted in her spot. After all, this was someone she saw almost every day. There was nothing to be embarrassed about since this was a chance meeting, certainly, no reason to feel afraid; this was just her boss, nothing more. So _what_ if they bumped into each other in a different city?

But it _was_ different this time because she had been thinking about him with deep yearnings in her heart.

And despite her inner ramblings to the contrary, her pulse quickened when he was almost upon her.

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_Please review_


	5. Chapter 5

Two sides

Chapter 5

Inside the beautiful surroundings of Public Garden, Mike was headed Connie's way.

Connie watched his familiar presence, not knowing how to react, feeling quite unsettled. She was stunned to see him in Boston and wondered why he did not seem as surprised at seeing her. It was almost as if he had _expected_ to see her here, yet, how could that be?

When he finally reached her, he seemed relaxed and casual, although his gaze never left her for a moment. A shadow of a smile played on his lips.

"Connie" he announced, "…I'm glad to see you…."

For some reason, his voice sounded softer than she imagined. Connie looked into his clear blue eyes and tried to read what he could be thinking. At this moment, she didn't even know what _she_ was thinking. Her lips parted to emit a shallow breath as she worked to recover.

"Mike," she greeted at a last, although her voice was slightly unsteady, "W-What are you doing here?"

He turned and silently gestured towards the Swan Boats in the pond, "Just going over the murder scene. Like you."

She continued to fix him a questioning gaze.

"Going over a murder scene? _Like me_?" She parroted. Her mind worked to understand what her ears were telling her, "Mike, what do you mean? I'm not understanding. How did you even know I was on a case?"

Mike had not expected to see her today, so he had not considered what he might say to her if he saw her. He figured the best way out of this awkward situation was to tell her the truth in the shortest amount of words possible.

"I'm on the Merrick case, too, Connie," Mike simply said, "I was hired as a consultant for Josh."

"A… consultant…for Josh," Connie repeated the words to herself before she looked back at him again, _"You're_ working on the prosecution side with Josh Lethem?"

Her puzzlement somehow seemed to amuse him.

"Yes, on the prosecution side," he teased, "…but it'll be our little secret for now… "

He playfully touched his index finger to his lips in a _ssshhh _motion. The 'quiet' gesture had meant to be in jest, but somehow it had a different effect on Connie. Watching how Mike's finger grazed his lips seemed so…intimate and it made her take a sharp intake of breath. She could not tear her eyes away from him.

Her reaction was not lost on Mike. She was so close to him that Mike yearned to run his finger lightly along her cheekbone. Chill bumps followed up his neck at that pleasurable image.

He needed to take a calming breath as Connie continued to eye him with inquisitive interest.

"I'm working on the defense side for Doug Merrick, " Connie announced, "but you already seem to know that fact."

She tried to keep her voice steady, but still, her heart seemed to be beating twice as fast.

Mike nodded solemnly, "You knew Merrick from the past."

How did he know this, Connie wondered. Whatever the reason, there seemed to be a tinge of accusation in his voice.

"Yes," Connie admitted tremulously, "I knew Doug from before."

Although Mike knew that would be the answer, her mention of Merrick's _first_ name and the implied intimacy seemed to hit Mike with the same coldness of ice water.

"Douglas Merrick is guilty," Mike said evenly but firmly, "I know he is."

A stiff silence descended on them. Whatever made him blurt out that last remark, Mike realized, too late, that it had made the situation worse.

His conviction seemed to break Connie out of her _seeing-Mike-out-of-the-blue_ trance, as her mind absorbed what he had said. Was he implying that she was defending Merrick only because she knew him?

She suddenly became very protective of her client.

"It's not a fact that he is guilty, Mike."

Her eyes slightly flashed with indignation, causing Mike to wonder why she had such a strong reaction to his statement. The only conclusion he could draw from that was she still harbored feelings for Merrick, and that reasoning bothered him.

"I know he's guilty, Connie, as strongly as you know he's innocent!"

Mike couldn't believe he blew it again. But he hated how she defended Merrick. Connie blinked quickly in succession, her guts suddenly knotted together at her annoyance over Mike's words.

"Perhaps now iis not the best time to talk about this, Mike," Connie stated coolly.

Instinctively Mike knew he should have also back off and give both of them time to settle down, but that uncomfortable sensation filled him again at the imagery of Connie dining with Merrick. Her insistence of his innocence seemed to trigger something inside of him. He knew it was jealousy, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Are you saying he's innocent because you had once been _engaged_ to him?"

Mike could feel Connie emotionally withdrawing from him.

She dropped her mouth, stunned. _He knew Doug and I had been engaged_, she realized. Her thoughts were reeling, but not from just that knowledge. What surprised her the most was that he would think so little of her legal impartiality.

"Mike, how…how could you imply that I would ever…ever _not_ see a case objectively?" Connie replied, thinking her voice sounded a little shrill, "You know me better than that! I tell you he is innocent because of the _facts_…he had an alibi for the night of the murder…he can't be in two places at once!"

Mike had seen Connie emphatic before, but she seemed beyond impassioned on this case. It told him what he needed to know.

She must still have feelings for Merrick. Mike turned and took a deep breath in as he faced the pond again. He didn't like where this conversation was headed, so it was best he ended it. He turned back to face her.

"I came here to view the murder scene, and I have seen all I needed to see, so I'll go now," he stated with grim determination, "I think Josh is probably waiting for me back at his office."

Connie straightened up, "Fine by me."

An awkward pause.

Though Mike tried not to show it, irritation played out on his face.

"See you in court, Connie."

_See you in court? _She thought she would never hear those last four words from him spoken in that tone. In the past she had shown her annoyance at him, but if he ever felt perturbed at her, he never outwardly showed it.

Until now.

Her voice sounded strange and bitter, "See _you_ in court, Mike."

For a flash, Connie thought she read regret in the deep blues of his eyes. But it had come and gone so quickly, she concluded that she had imagined it. Or rather wished she had.

"Good-bye," he stated unemotionally as he brushed past her and walked towards where his car was parked.

She turned and watched his back as he continued walking. Forcing herself to face forward once more, Connie squared her shoulder, lifted her head and proceeded towards the Swan Boats.

But even watching the boats sedately gliding and children boisterously playing could not distract her from what had just occurred. The blissful scene had lost its innocent appeal for her. She now saw the idyllic place as the scene of a grisly murder.

Connie bit the inside of her lip as she thought about her conversation with Mike. She replayed in her head several different scenarios of how their meeting should have gone and they all ended with her and Mike actually _happy_ to bump into one another in Boston.

But that was not a possibility now.

Of all the cases Mike could have chosen to prosecute, why had he decided on the Merrick case?

Sighing, she returned her gaze back to the waters, willing herself to brush aside images of Mike. Her mind then haphazardly drifted back to the pond in front of her, to the night Tom Merrick was murdered.

What had Tom been doing here, she wondered, as she gazed over the waters. Did he routinely go to the lagoon at night for solitude, or was he meeting someone? She shook her head thinking what had been upmost in her mind since she had taken over the case; Doug could not have done such a horrific thing to his brother; he was innocent of murder… wasn't he?

_Please, don't let Doug be guilty_, she thought silently to herself, _let it be some_ _demented, warped, sadistic stranger with a knife who got to Tom Merrick_.

And although it was another mild springtime day, Connie felt herself shivering.

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It had started in the morning and had overtaken Josh so quickly, he hadn't known what had hit him.

Even with eyes closed, he felt the bright light.

Throat dry. Hot So very hot.

Josh was coming out of his dreamlike state. He was beginning his ascent back to reality, but nothing could prepare him for the agony of it. Was he dying? He could hear a voice, but the burning sensation snatched away his breath and it took all his concentration just to breathe normal again…

"Josh…Josh!"

The familiar voice sounded like Mike's. Josh turned his head towards the sound, but his eyes remained shut. His body felt like it was floating away…stop…he must stay in the realm of reality…

"_Josh!"_ Mike's voice was insistent now.

Josh haltingly opened his eyes and blinked, "Wha…What?"

As Josh began to focus, he realized he was safely tucked in own bed, inside his own apartment. He could now make out a slightly-blurred Mike hovering over him, a bag of groceries in his arms.

Josh held out his arm desperately towards Mike.

"Mike! Help me, buddy boy!" Josh's weak voice cracked, "I think I saw a bright light!"

" Josh!" Mike said, looking down at his friend unsympathically, "Pulled yourself together! You are _not _seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you are _not_ dying…you just have a slight fever!"

But Josh felt he was slipping into a dark abyss.

"No, buddy boy, I-I feel my life is ebbing away from me…" Josh held out his arm further towards his friend.

Instead, he saw Mike walking away from him. From his viewpoint, Josh could see Mike in the compact kitchen, busily putting away the newly-purchased groceries in the refrigerator and cupboards.

Josh struggled to sit up. When Mike looked across the room at his friend, he was glad to see Josh at least well enough to lean up against the headboard.

"These groceries should hold you for a couple of days," Mike stated, coming back to stand beside the bed.

"Yeah, thanks, Mikey boy," Josh said, as he leaned his head against the backboard of his bed, "You're the best; and with your help, I'll be up and about in a few days…"

"In a few days?" Mike questioned, "Josh, you're prosecuting the Merrick case tomorrow."

Josh tiredly rolled his head over to Mike, "Do you have eyes? Can you not see I am at my deathbed? I am in no condition to prosecute…no, you gotta do it for me, buddy boy!"

Mike's face fell.

"Hey, wait a minute, Josh…"

"Oooo" Josh moaned, "I'm _so_ exhausted...hold on while I lay down again…" Josh grimaced as he once made himself comfortable in the prone position, "It feels as if the death clock is ticking away on me, Mikey.'

"Josh, don't you try and change the subject," Mike warned.

"What do you mean?" Josh said, as he let out another moan in order to find a more comfortable position, "I've been talking about being on the edge of death for the past five minutes, no change of subject."

"Josh, I'm talking about the Merrick case," Mike reminded him. But Josh's response was almost as if he didn't hear what Mike had just said.

"I'm just glad," Josh gave a pained expression, " that I can always count on my buddy boy here to see me through…"

Mike knew exactly what Josh meant by the "see me through" part.

"You don't really expect me to be lead counsel on this case, do you?" Mike looked incredulous, knowing that it would pit him directly against Connie.

Josh turned to wearily look at his friend.

"…Mikey…Mikey, You know this case as well as I do! And if you don't try this case, jury selection will have to start all over again and then the defense will argue the right of the defendant to a speedy trial and then…"

Josh stopped himself as realization hit him, "Oh, wait! Get out your reins and hold your horses here!…I _get it_…"

Despite his pain, Josh paused, as he realized why Mike was so adamant about not being first chair on the case.

"You get what?" Mike challenged, his eyes narrowing.

"You're not worried about the case at all, are you, buddy boy?" Josh accused him, "it's about _Rub-iro-sa_, isn't it? _That's_ why all the objections from you!"

Mike hated that it seemed as if Josh read his mind, "No, Josh, it's just... I didn't expect to be lead attorney on this case…"

"…if I recall correctly," Josh spoke his thoughts aloud, "…Connie really showed you up on that Sanderson case during the Legal Aid's strike."

At the mention of that case, Mike could not help the smile that tugged on his lips.

"Yeah," he said, almost proudly, "she certainly was a force to be reckoned with."

"But, Mikey, you don't have to fear her legal prowness," Josh said, "You usually can do a fairly good job in court, yourself!"

"A fairly good job? Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Josh" Mike said sardonically, "Maybe I can work as a law clerk after Connie wipes the floor with me."

"You know what I mean" Josh then made a point of a big yawn, "…Oh, man, this illness has taken its toll on me...I need to rest now..."

"Josh…" Mike attempted again, "don't you do this to me!"

"Keep me informed, okay?" Josh said, as he now slowly turned his back to Mike, "...and thanks..."

"Josh, I think..."

"Oh, and will you leave out a glass of orange juice on my night table before you leave?" Josh interrupted, as he made one last moan, "Over and out, buddy boy!"

Mike could see it was useless as Josh made a gesture of waving him away.

Josh had once again fallen asleep, or at least his form was now silent and still. Mike sighed, knowing he might as well accept his fate. Looking at his watch, Mike figured he better be heading back to the courthouse to prepare for trial, which will begin tomorrow.

He still had a lot of work to do if he were expected to go head to head against Connie Rubirosa… _again._

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_Mike and Connie will go up against each other in court next chapter! I'm so excited for you to read it! I hope you will like it!_

_Please review_


	6. Chapter 6

Opening arguments

Chapter 6

"All rise!"

Inside the Boston Municipal Courthouse, the room had been decorated with light-wooden seats, reminiscent of a colonial church. Judge Patrick Brown, resplendent in his black robe, entered the courtroom at precisely 10 am.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen." He spoke in a crisp manner, as he sat down.

Mike and Connie, the two opposing counsels, took their respective seats, facing the Judge's bench. While Judge Brown perused through a stack of papers in front of him, Mike could not help but sneak a glance at Connie.

Despite the seriousness of the moment, he couldn't help feeling happy at the mere sight of her.

Her lips were pursed, as she seemed to be waiting in forced patience for the proceedings to begin. He always found her slight way of dealing with nervous stress attractive. As he continued watching her, he felt he had never seen a mouth as beautiful as hers, the upper lip so perfectly shaped, the lower one softer, and fuller. He purposely looked down at his file, willing himself to concentrate on the case at hand.

At the defense table, Connie forced herself not to look over at the prosecution table.

Doug Merrick leaned her way and whispered in her ear, "Hey, where's Lethem? And who's that new prosecutor over there?"

Connie could not avoid it any longer. She furtively looked over at the prosecution table.

Mike looked so intent as he reread his file. As always, he had dressed attorney smart. The distinguished three- piece brown suit he often wore on "important" cases made an appearance today, and she slightly smiled at the familiarity.

"Something amusing you want to let me in on?" Doug whispered to Connie, noticing her expression.

"It's...nothing! " she recovered quickly before replying back in a low tone, "and no need to worry about him, either." She spoke with confidence, although truthfully,she did not feel that way.

The Judge finally looked up.

"I see we already have a little business to take care of before we get underway," Judge Brown stated in his no nonsense way, "we have a guest over at the prosecution table."

Heads turned towards Mike's table as he stood up.

"Mike Cutter for the prosecution, Your Honor."

The Judge acknowledged with a nod, "I understand that you practice law in New York City,Mr. Cutter, as well as Miss Rubirosa, seated at the defense table. Am I correct regarding that fact, counselors?" He looked back and forth between the tables.

Mike and Connie both answered in the affirmative.

"And have the two of you filed the appropriate paperwork in order to prosecute a murder case in this jurisdiction?" he asked.

"Yes, your Honor," Connie responded. She tried not to look Mike's way again, although with every breath she took, Connie wanted to.

"You have it before you already, Your Honor." Mike explained, managing to dart a glance her way.

The Judge put on his glasses.

"Ahh, yes, here they are," said the Judge, glancing over the paperwork. He then peered over his glasses to look in Mike's direction, "And where is the illustrious Mr. Lethem?"

"Your Honor," Mike explained, "the lead attorney for the prosecution, Josh Lethem, is feeling under the weather as of last night and hopes to return here at a later date."

"Tell him my sympathy card is in the mail, " the Judge snidely stated while adding, "Is the prosecution ready to proceed with an opening statement or will we be hearing a request for a continuance?"

"We are ready, your honor," Mike stated.

"Good…" the Judge now turned to the defense table, "Are there any objections to Mr. Cutter prosecuting the case, Miss Rubirosa?"

Connie bit her lip again before standing to answer the Judge.

"None that I care to say outloud, Your Honor," was Connie's response, as one side of Mike's mouth twitched.

"Then get on with your opening statement, counselor," the Judge stated to Mike.

Mike subconsciously buttoned his jacket and straightened it. He then walked over to the jury box of eight men and four women, in addition to three alternate jurors.

He nodded a greeting to the jurors.

"What we have here is a family tragedy, ladies and gentlemen," Mike began, "it is an unfortunate story of death within a family; of brother killing brother in _cold_ _blood_…" Mike then dramatically glanced at Doug Merrick before continuing.

"Douglas Merrick is no stranger to heinous crimes," Mike continued, "Almost a year to this day he was charged with the rape of a young woman on Cape Cod. That charge must have worried Douglas Merrick, for he knew any show of moral turpitude on his part would result in his lost of the Merrick trust fund. And for someone like Douglas Merrick, that meant he could no longer live off the hard work and sweat of the Merrick family fortune."

Over at the defense table, Douglas Merrick shifted uncomfortably.

Mike started pacing as he continued.

"…So in the defendant's mind, he had a good reason for murdering his brother, Tom Merrick," Mike explained, "…Douglas Merrick felt he_ deserved_ the money left to him by their father, Grey Merrick, the founder of a company Bostonians have come to love and respect, Merrick's Clam Chowder… "

Mike had stopped pacing as he directly faced the jurors.

_"Yes_," Mike stated with conviction, "Douglas Merrick would do _anything_ to get a hold of the millions of dollars his father had so painstakingly worked for all his life. In fact, he felt _entitled _to this life of leisure. Unfortunately, one person stood in his way, and that was his own brother. This case, like many before it, all boils down to one reason to kill: money. Money—or the fear of losing it—can be a powerful motive for _murder."_

The jury was mesmerized as Mike purposely pointed at Merrick.

"Douglas Merrick knew exactly what he was doing when he called a private meeting with his brother. With no moon to illuminate his murder on that fateful spring night, the defendant, Douglas Merrick, confronted his brother on one of the Swan Boats in Boston Gardens. They argued and then Douglas Merrick intentionally _plunged_ a knife into his older brother's chest!"

At the same time that Mike emphasized the word "plunged", he made the stabbing motion with his hand as several jurors looked on, horrified.

Mike then looked into each and every juror as he drew his conclusion, "…what I have stated to you today is merely what the evidence will prove…that Douglas Merrick callously and with intent _murdered_ his brother so he could continue living the wealthy lifestyle he felt he deserved and that we, as hard-working taxpayers, could only dream about…thank you…"

Mike walked back to his seat and not a sound could be heard in the courtroom.

The Judge cleared his throat, "Miss Rubirosa, would you like to present an opening statement?"

"I would, Your Honor" Connie said, as she approached the jurors' box, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. You have just heard the people's opening statement, and if I were to be honest with you, I must agree with one part of Mr. Cutter's opening statement…"

Mike leaned forward as Connie looked directly at him.

"…Mr. Cutter," pointed out Connie, "was correct when he stated that there was no moon the night Tom Merrick was killed."

A few smiles lit up the jury box.

Mike could not believe Connie was lightly jesting him in open court.

He stood, "I object! Your Honor, defense counsel does not have the right in opening arguments to impugn opposing counsel!"

"I did nothing of the kind, Your Honor, " Connie turned calmly to the judge, "I was merely pointing out Mr. Cutter's use of poetic license."

Mike looked indignantly at Connie before turning back to the Judge.

"Sarcasm has no place in opening arguments, Your Honor," Mike pointed out.

"Then the prosecution must cut his opening statement in half, Your Honor," Connie countered.

The Judge pounded the gavel as he looked at both attorneys, "I am not sure I understand what is going on here…but…overruled."

Connie was all business as she gave Mike a challenging stare before she faced the Judge again.

"My apologies, Your Honor," she said.

"Proceed, Miss Rubirosa."

Connie then faced the jury box with a look of humbleness, "It was a day like any other day on May 17th when Douglas Merrick woke up and hit the snooze button of his alarm clock, something you and millions of other people do everyday. Getting out of bed, he took a shower, dressed, had breakfast, and jumped in his car. Little did he know when he turned on his car radio and listened to the broadcast news report, that this would be the worst day of his life."

Her expression and tone turned to one of sadness, "Why? Because this was the day he would learn that his beloved brother had been brutally murdered. As a stunned Douglas Merrick listened to the startling news, he suddenly saw police lights in his rearview mirror. Imagine his shock when his car was pulled over to the side of the street, he was roughly searched, handcuffed and then arrested for that said murder. It would be a nightmare for any innocent victim."

The jury listened to her every word.

Connie gestured towards her client, "Douglas Merrick, seated there with _his_ life in _your_ hands, is _innocent._ You don't have to take my word for it, but it would be nice if you did, " she smiled sweetly, "Nevertheless, I will prove his innocence to you, not with sweeping conjectures but with _the facts_. "

She also made eye contact with each juror, "Bear in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that it is not the _defense's_ obligation to prove _anything._ That is the _prosecution's_ job. But we will willingly take on the burden of proof in order to prove Douglas Merrick's innocence."

Her confidence grew as she continued, "You will hear from a very credible witness that Doug Merrick could not have killed his brother because Mr. Merrick was in Cape Cod during that time with his girlfriend, enjoying a delectable lobster dinner, cooked to perfection and..."

Mike stood up again and Connie heaved a sigh of frustration.

""Did you hear your name used again, Mr. Cutter?" Connie asked Mike, not realizing she was directly addressing him in open court,

Before Mike could respond, the Judge intercepted.

"_**I**_ will ask the questions, Miss Rubirosa!" the Judge replied sharply, "and Mr. Cutter, why _are_ you objecting once more to counsel's opening statement?"

"I'm objecting to her comment about the lobsters, Your Honor," Mike said, "It's irrelevant!"

The seriousness of his tone in conjunction with "lobsters" caused a few smatterings of laughter from the gallery. Even Connie had to look away to hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

The Judge was actually going to sustain Mike's objection until Connie suddenly spoke up.

"Your Honor, I apologize for Mr. Cutter's inability to control himself," interjected Connie, "but what he does not understand is that the statement _is_ relevant; for you will hear from the clerk of the fish market where Doug Merrick bought the lobsters that day and I will also present the actual receipt that was given on the day Tom Merrick had been killed."

Judge Brown nodded, "Overruled."

Connie smiled knowingly as Mike sat down again.

"Douglas Merrick respected and loved his older brother, Tom." Connie continued, "He is saddened and sickened over the loss of his brother. To even _suggest_ that Douglas Merrick was responsible for his brother's death is beyond repulsive to him. I am confident that when presented with the facts, you will exonerate my client on all counts. He is _innocent. _Douglas Merrick would just like to get on with his life, like any other individual. I trust you will do the right thing, and find him innocent of all charges. Like other families in times of tragedy, let Douglas Merrick mourn his brother's tragic death in private...Thank you."

She walked back to her table, purposely not looking towards the prosecution table, not wanting to see Mike's reaction to her opening statement.

Judge Brown unexpectedly pounded his gavel loudly, despite the courtroom being silent.

"Due to the nature of this being a high profile case, " began the Judge in his usual candid self, "we have a full house this morning, including a number of reporters and therefore it is important that I address a specific matter that is weighing on my mind."

The Judge looked sternly at the two attorneys. Mike and Connie knew they were not going to like what the Judge was going to say.

"This is a court of law…I will not tolerate unnecessary interruptions during the course of this trial," Judge Brown stated, "This is _my_ courtroom and I insist both counsels show the utmost respect for the judicial process. Do I make myself clear or do we need to discuss this issue privately in my chambers with checkbooks in hands?"

Mike and Connie exchanged guilty looks.

"I understand, Your Honor," Connie said.

"My apologies, Your Honor," Mike stated.

The Judge nodded, "Call your first witness, Mr. Cutter."

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_(Remember: for entertainment purposes only-I know it couldn't happen this way!)_

_The courtroom conflict becomes more intense in the next chapter!_

_Please review._


	7. Chapter 7

The First Witness

Chapter 7

Mike stood, "The People call Detective Ryan Hyland to the stand."

Detective Hyland was tall, of medium built with an average face and dark curly hair. He was sworn in and sat down.

Guided by Mike, Detective Hyland testified about finding the body of Tom Merrick on one of the Swan Boast in the Public Garden. Hyland had been the first law enforcement officer to arrive on the gruesome scene.

"...It was," the detective ended his narrative, "a clean killing."

"Could you tell the court what is meant by a 'clean killing'?" Mike inquired, curiosity etched on his face, "Surely you don't mean soap-and-water, just finished- a -shower kind of clean, do you?"

There were a few people who smiled while Connie tried not to roll her eyes. It was interesting to see Mike's questioning methods from the other side. It was annoying.

Even the detective smiled, "Of course not, Mr. Cutter. It just means that there was relatively little blood, despite a stab wound to the chest."

"And how much blood was there at the scene?" Mike asked, "Would you say a pint of blood?"

Connie stood, "Objection, leading the witness."

"Your Honor," defended Mike, "the detective is an expert in observing crime scenes. He knows when a murder scene contains a little or a lot of blood."

"But Mr. Cutter has asked for an exact amount of blood and he has failed to set the foundation as to whether or not Mr. Hyland had a measuring cup with him," stated Connie, looking at Mike.

Mike tilted his head, "_Really_, Miss Rubirosa, a measuring cup?"

The Judge hit his gavel, "Are either one of you interested in what _I_have to say about the matter?"

Mike and Connie apologized.

"Overruled."

Mike nodded, "Again, was it about a pint of blood?"

"Yes," the detective said, "or perhaps a little less than that."

"Now, Detective Hyland," Mike began, "It was a quarter to twelve when you discovered the body. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"In what position did you find the body?" Mike asked

"He was facedown."

"And you could see the wound?" Mike asked.

"No," said the detective, "but I could see the blood. At first I thought it was coming from his stomach. It wasn't until later that I learned it was from a wound to his chest."

"So what did you do then?"

"I called for backup."

Mike nodded, "Thank you. No further questions."

The courtroom was silent as Mike sat down, bracing himself for Connie's cross.

Connie stood up immediately and walked over to the witness stand.

"Good day, Detective Hyland," Connie smiled as he nodded, "Could you please tell the court how was it that a plainclothes detective such as yourself was the first to arrive on the scene?"

The detective sat up proudly, "I am part of a new plainclothes task force patrol working the park. Lately there have been reports of a lot of kids hanging out there at night. Some vandalism had been witnessed near the Swan Boats, too."

"Oh, vandalism? What a shame!" Connie looked shocked as Mike tried not to roll his eyes, "and isn't it true that you've made arrests of some of these kids before, at the very spot where Tom Merrick's body was found?"

"Objection!" Mike was on his feet, "this whole line of questioning is irrelevant."

"Overruled."

Mike tried again, "Failure to lay foundation for admission of testimony."

"_Overruled."_

Connie faced the witness, "Let me re-state the question _quickly_, before we get interrupted by the prosecution _again_,"she stated, glancing at Mike, "Isn't it true that you've made arrests of some of these kids before, at the very spot where Tom Merrick's body was found?"

"A few arrests," the detective said.

"A few, you say," Connie repeated, "Over what period of time?"

The detective looked up to think, "Um, a few arrests over the past two years."

"What were those arrests for, Detective?"

"Uh, vandalism, as I had stated," the detective testified, "but we've also arrested some kids involved with loitering, even drugs."

As Connie went back to the table, she held up a paper.

"So you've made arrests _only_ for drugs and loitering, detective?" Connie asked, as she waved the paper in clear view for the detective.

Mike knew what was happening. Connie was pretending she had evidence of the actual arrests at the park. From his table, Mike could see the paper was blank, but he was not going to object, for he knew he had worked that ploy plenty of times and she would rip him to shreds over that. As if she could read his mind, she looked over to him with a slight smirk.

"Well," said the detective, reconsidering, "There was one drug arrest which also involved possession of a weapon."

"Is that so?" again, Connie looked surprised, "and what sort of weapon are you referring to, detective?"

The detective paused before answering, "a…knife."

There were uncomfortable murmurings.

"And this _knife_ incident," asked Connie, emphasizing the word _knife_, "did this happen right around the time of Tom Merrick's murder?"

"That's correct."

"Weeks before?"

"No."

"When then?" Connie gave the detective her full attention.

Detective Hyland heaved a big sigh. "A couple of days before."

"And can you tell the court, where is this person now, detective?" Connie wanted to know, "this person arrested for possession of a knife?"

"I have no idea," the detective replied, "I don't keep tabs on all the arrests I make."

"Well, then," said Connie, "to the best of your knowledge, would that person you arrested for possession of drugs and a lethal weapon, be behind bars?"

"Objection," Mike stood, "Calls for speculation."

"The detective may have knowledge of whether or not the person he arrested was in jail or if that assailant had made a 'clean' getaway," Connie slightly mocked Mike's original mention of 'clean', "and oh, I don't mean the soap-and-water kind."

"I resent…" began Mike before he was interrupted by the Judge.

The gavel came down, as the Judge addressed the attorneys.

"I can see both counselors can exchange sparkling repartee, however, we do need to move on," the Judge said, "Overruled."

Connie gave Mike a look of victory, "Actually, no further questions. Thank you Mr. Hyland, for being such a good witness _for the defense_."

Mike leaned back, frustrated. The detective was _his_ witness.

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So day one of the Merrick case was over. Everyone had filed out. Connie and Doug Merrick were the last to leave the courtroom for they wanted to avoid all reporters. The hallway seemed empty as they filed out.

"How do you think the first day went?" Doug was asking Connie as he opened the double doors leading out into the hallway.

"Fine, "Connie sounded neutral, "In fact, I believe we scored one for our team."

"That's great, Connie!" Doug looked pleased, "What will happen next?"

Connie sighed, for she was not looking forward to what was coming up.

"I expect the next day to be more of the same from experts and the like," she explained, "I'll be sure to make it clear to Mi…to the prosecutor and jurors that there is no DNA evidence to tie you to the crime."

"Of course there isn't, "Doug stated confidently, "because _I_did not kill my brother!"

"Yes, I am aware—" Connie began, but stopped when she saw Mike approaching them.

She should be frustrated at Mike, she should be angry with him for all his interruptions in court, but she couldn't help the slight smile that came to her lips, at his appearance.

"Connie, " Mike nodded, as he walked up to her, "that was quite a show you put in there."

At first she thought Mike was being his usual sardonic self. But she noted how his admiring gaze searched hers. She tried to calm the sense of yearning she had been feeling towards him lately. But that seemed to be an impossibility when the blueness of his eyes seemed especially vibrant today.

And despite Connie's efforts to appear coolly professional, his name rose softly in her throat when she greeted him, "Mike".

An unsteady sound escaped him at the way she said his name.

The air seemed charged with tension as Mike, Connie and Doug stood there. Mike was looking at her as if he hadn't seen her for years, although they had just gone head to head against each other in court.

"Uh," Doug broke up the silence as he noticed the way Mike and Connie were viewing one another, "Have you two gone up against each other before?"

Connie answered without taking her eyes off Mike, "If you must know, Doug; Mr. Cutter is my boss in New York City."

Doug looked completely taken aback, "Y-Your boss?"

"…More like colleagues," corrected Mike.

"Doesn't that make it a conflict of interest?" Doug asked, a scowl on his face.

"I think it does, as a matter of fact," answered Mike, snidely, "as it pertains to you and Connie, that is."

"Hey now, wait a minute!" Doug exclaimed, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with Connie helping out an old boyfriend is there? You're just mad because she got the better of you in court! _She is better than you at this job_!"

The part about Connie being better than him did not bother him as much as Doug mentioning being her 'boyfriend'. Mike winced at that. His expression clearly showed he did not think much of Merrick. To Mike, Merrick came off as an upper class cream puff.

"How would you know anything about how good people are on a job," Mike stated to Merrick calmly, "being that you never worked a day in your life…"

Connie faced Mike, eyes flashing, "Mike, that's a low blow, even for you!"

Mike hated how quickly Connie defended Merrick.

. "…that was a low blow _even for me_?" Mike parroted Connie's statement, "You make it sound like I am giving low blows left and right!"

"Well, nothing surprises me about you, Mike…" Connie 's frustrations showed through, "…especially when it comes to a case, you will do anything, say anything to win!"

"And what kind of _do anything, say anything_ tactics did I use in court today, Connie?"

Now Doug was watching the two of them like it was a tennis match.

"Really, Mike? You need to ask? I guess you've used them so often, you've actually become immune to them! Here's an example…how about when you interrupted my opening statement because of my narration included the mention of _lobsters_…" Connie asked.

"You were the one who went on and on about the lobster dinner," Mike stated, "I was afraid you were going to mention what side dishes accompanied the dish right in your opening statement!"

"That wasn't half as bad as you and the moonless night!" Connie countered, "We were discussing a murder, not the cover of a romance novel!"

"_What_, " responded Mike, "are you jealous of _my_ descriptive narrative? At least I didn't bat my eyes like a Southern belle and ask the jury to 'not take my word for it, but I wish you did'!"

Connie looked flabbergasted," I am sorry I had to choose theatrics over you using _your charm_ for the 'soap-and-water' anecdote!"

A pause.

Mike's mouth dropped and he looked slightly taken aback, "You…You thought…I was charming?" He stared at her in quiet wonderment.

She blushed and tried to show exasperation at his reaction, "_What?_ No, that's not what I meant…a mistake…what I should have said…"

_R-r-ing._

Their arguing was interrupted by Mike's Blackberry. This gave Doug the perfect opportunity.

"Come on, Connie, " Doug announced, "Let's go…I know an excellent restaurant we can try for dinner tonight."

Doug reached for Connie's arm. Mike and Connie had been staring at each other, dazed and frustrated. Doug practically had to force her to turn around. Connie seemed hesitant, almost acting as if she did not want to go.

At one point as they started walking away, Connie gave a half turn back, but changed her mind and proceeded to walk forward, alongside Douglas Merrick.

Mike's BlackBerry continued to ring, but Mike did not answer it. He was too absorbed in watching Connie walking away with another man.

And suddenly he felt his heart aching.

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_Again, not an attorney...this was for entertainment purposes only! :D_

_Please review_


	8. Chapter 8

The Alibi Witness

Chapter 8

When Connie entered his high-rise office, attorney James Middleton waved her in and gestured for her to sit while he finished the call.

She could hear Middleton's side of the conversation as he spoke on the phone, "Of course we are happy to hear from you!" he stated enthusiastically, although the smile did not reach his eyes.

From what Connie could ascertain, it sounded like good news…until it suddenly sounded like bad news. Middleton's face suddenly dropped.

"No, you can't do this…!" Middleton was almost yelling in the phone, "I assure you, we'll be there for you all the way!"

Connie heard a female voice talking loudly back as Middleton frowned. He then instructed the caller, "Listen…don't do anything rash… Just stay put…no, no…I'll send Miss Rubirosa down to talk with you. You'll like her…right…She's on her way…okay…good bye."

Middleton slammed the phone down.

"What was _that_ about?" Connie wanted to know, as she observe him rubbing his temples, "I heard my name mentioned...does this concern the case?"

Middleton peered over at Connie.

"We finally located Cynthia Morgan, the alibi witness," Middleton announced, none too happy looking, "she has changed her mind about testifying. That's why she had left town; she wanted to get away from all the hoopla. Couldn't handle the pressure, she claimed. But wisely she decided to go back to her house in Cape Cod."

"That's excellent news." Connie looked pleased.

"I wouldn't be jumping for joy quite yet, Miss Rubirosa," Middleton warned.

Connie tilted her head, "Why? What do you mean?" she asked.

"Seems Ms. Morgan is reluctant to testify."

Now it was Connie's turn to look surprised.

"We could subpoena her," Connie suggested, "force her to tesify."

James Middleton paused, "I guess Doug didn't tell you about her…"

Connie frowned slightly, "No, why? What about her?"

"She suffers from social anxiety, to put it mildly," James wearily took off his glasses and rubbed his face, "She's borderline agoraphobic, but not quite. Her conditions comes and goes. Not sure how well she will hold up in court."

"She may hold strong knowing that her boyfriend's life is on the line."

"Not sure you want take the chance," Middleton stated defeatedly, "Do you really want to watch her as she suffers an anxiety attack on the witness stand? She has dissociation issues, Miss Rubirosa. She will not survive tough cross examination, especially from Cutter. Believe me, we do not want to put her in that tenuous position."

"Perhaps I could try and talk with her," suggested Connie, "get her to come here and have our psychologist determine whether or not she can withstand the pressure.".

Middleton nodded, "I thought as much. There might be a chance you could convince her and then escort her back here. You will know how to handle her. After all, you _are_ a woman."

"Thank you," Connie stated dryly.

Middleton did not get the sarcastic tone, "Fine, it's all settled then."

.

.

Cape Cod, locally known as "The Cape" was situated on the easternmost portion of Massachusetts. This famous region was known for its scenic marine setting, fine beaches, country inns and outstanding seafood establishments. The Merrick estate, located on the nearby islands of Martha's Vineyard, was a hop, skip and jump away from Cape Cod.

The smell of salt water and the sight of Cape Cod Bay brought a smile to Connie's lips as she drove down Bourne Bridge, which crossed the man-made Cape Cod Canal and linked the rest of the world to the Cape.

She was here to convince alibi witness Cynthia's Morgan, to testify on behalf of Doug Merrick, her boyfriend.

Pine trees stretched across the winding road leading to Cynthia's house in the quaint town of Harwichport.

Finally Connie turned into a crushed seashell driveway leading to a beautiful rambling yellow house with white shutters and a wraparound shaded porch adorned with lovely daisies.

As Connie got out of the car and walked up to the front of the house, she was surprised that Cynthia would be even able to afford such an impressive place. Ms. Morgan probably had help from the Doug Merrick, Connie surmised.

So involved was Connie with admiring the landscape of the house, she had failed to realize there was someone standing in the shadows of the darkened porch. Her foot had reached the bottom step but then froze mid-step when she looked up at the familiar figure.

The imposing outline of Mike Cutter loomed at the top of the stairs, gazing down on her.

The sight of Connie sent Mike's heart racing and he had to work to maintain a casual composure. At the same time, Connie's heart skittered as she watched him.

"Connie…I saw you drive up," he said by way of explanation. From where he stood, he was giving her a slow appraisal and she felt herself blushing.

Connie took a deep, bracing breath. What was it about him that always made her pulse quickened? she wondered, knowing she never had this reaction with Doug. Ever.

"Mike," she prayed her voice sounded steady, "W-what are you doing here?"

"The same reason you are here, " Mike explained, "to talk with Miss Morgan."

Connie went up the stairs to reach the landing where Mike stood. Was it only a week ago that they were working on a case together, sharing lunches, sharing ideas? Now they were adversaries on opposite sides of a case.

And yet, despite that knowledge, each was secretly glad the other one was here.

"Well," she tried to be civil, "You do realize that Cynthia Morgan is _my_ defense alibi witness? I believe I should be the one to talk to her first."

"That's not the way I heard it_,_" Mike stated calmly as he now folded his arms, watching for her response. I don't believe she _will be_ your alibi witness. "

Connie subconsciously mirrored Mike by also folding her arms, "Care to explain your brilliant deduction?"

"I would at that," Mike explained, "You see, I spoke with her just before I left my hotel to come here, and Miss Morgan emphatically stated she would not testify under any circumstance."

As Connie looked indignantly in his eyes, she tried to forget how his eyes were like multifaceted prisms that seemed to pick up every flicker of light. She forced herself to concentrate on the case.

"So is that why you are here?" questioned Connie, "so that you can influence her to _not_ testify in court?"

She watched as he gave of the famous Michael Cutter look of incredulity.

"Would I ever do that, Connie?" he looked so innocent when he looked at her that any other time she would find it endearing, but not when Cynthia Morgan's testimony was vital to Doug's defense.

"I work with you, Mike, remember?" Connie reminded him, "I know your tactics and you would do _exactly_ that!"

"Then just remind me to hide my personality the next time I'm with you, Connie!" responded Mike.

"Hide your personality?" Connie parroted, "That's like hiding the sun from the sky!"

He tried to look annoyed but couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. He followed it up with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, as Connie looked away, trying hard not to show her amusement.

Mike was finding the entire situation entertaining. He rather enjoyed trading barbs with Connie, and he especially liked it when her eyes blazed with annoyance. Somehow he found all moods of Connie irresistible, whether she was calm, funny, or annoyed.

However one thought kept tugging at the back of his mind and that was that the defendant was also her ex. What if, Mike theorized, during all this extra time she and Merrick spent together, their feelings become re-ignited?

And why should it even matter to him? Mike pondered to himself.

"Excuse me," Connie said, "I'd like to get close enough to knock on the door."

Connie purposely slid forward so she would be directly in front of the door. Mike was not going to let her get the better of him so he also made his move, causing their shoulders to slightly collide.

Something sizzled down both their spines at contact.

He was so close to her now, she knew she needed only to half turn her head, and would be inches from his attractive face. She forced herself to keep looking forward.

"Why can't you just let me talk with her first?" Connie asked, trying a different angle "whatever happened to old fashioned chivalry?"

"It disappeared the minute I arrived here_ first,"_ Mike claimed.

"We'll just see which one of us she is willing to talk to first!" challenged Connie, "after all, a woman-to-woman chat time is always welcome! She'll probably need someone who could empathize with her situation."

She raised her fist to knock on the door, but Mike quickly brought his hand up and did one loud rap on the door.

"My thought is that she'll probably want to talk to the one who could _charm_ her, make her feel better during this difficult time in her life!" responded Mike, "after all, didn't you say I was _charming_ in court yesterday?"

"Probably the only misstep I made in court!" Connie admitted, "Charming? I probably meant 'harming'!"

"Well, let's say you and I test it out right now?" Mike challenged..

Oooo! Connie thought in frustration as she faced forward and knocked decisively.

Mike stood straighter, "Do I look suitably charming?" he asked her sardonically.

"You do realize, Mike," she responded, refusing to look his way, "that it is far more impressive when _others_ discover your good qualities _without_ your help, don't you?"

And again, Mike had to stifle a grin.

"Do tell," he seemed relax for the first time, "Are you saying you think of me as egotistical?"

"Let's just say," Connie said, "At the feast of Ego, everyone leaves hungry except you!"

Mike now had a smile a mile long.

They were quiet now as they both stared at the closed door. The time seemed to pass slowly and awkwardly.

"She doesn't seem to be answering," Connie stated, after a time, "didn't you say you had _just_ spoken to her? Maybe you and your charm chased her away."

Mike ignored the last part of her statement.

"Yes, I did just talk with her" answered Mike, "and I told her I would be right over. How strange. Does she live alone here?"

"That's what Doug told me," Connie said as she knocked again.

Meanwhile, Mike peered through a small row of windows in the front door, "I don't see any signs of anyone at home."

"Her car's here," pointed out Connie, as she gestured to the yellow BMW convertible in front of the garage off to the side.

Mike rapped louder. When there was still no response, he went one of the windows further away and cupped his hands against the window as he looked inside.

"Damn," he whispered under his breath at what he saw.

"What is it, Mike?" Connie asked, as she went over to his side.

Dread filled her, especially when Mike pulled out his Blackberry from his shirt pocket and dialed 911. Curiosity got the best of her as she also cupped her hands and pressed her nose to the glass and looked inside.

She gave a startled gasp.

A woman in a bathrobe was sprawled on the floor of an elaborate living room. A leather white couch was next to her and it was soaked in blood.

"Oh, Mike!" Connie's voice was shaking as the police dispatcher answered Mike's phone.

"Yes, hello," Mike calmly spoke into his BlackBerry, "You need to send somebody to Four Mockingbird Lane right away. It's an emergency "

As he waited for a response, he looked worriedly at a stupefied Connie. Her face was colorless, leaving her skin a translucent white.

Mike couldn't help it. Although one hand was holding the phone, he reached over with his other hand and silently rubbed Connie's arm. She did not pull away from his comforting touch as she looked at him with fear showing in her eyes.

"…yes, that's right," Mike spoke on the phone, "Looks like we've got the body of a dead woman inside her residence."

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_(Thanks everyone for your continued kind support, especially my dear friends, Abby, Angie and Amy)_

_Please review_.


	9. Chapter 9

The Investigation

Chapter 9

The usual contingent of police had arrived at the scene of the crime. Two male detectives in suits, a crime lab tech and a police photographer soon joined them.

After the detectives took Mike and Connie's statements, Mike led Connie into a far corner of the living room.

Mike could see that Connie was visibly shaken from the discovery of the bloodied body. Nervous sweat filmed her brow. Her eyes darted back and forth and her breathing seemed erratic everytime one of the crime specialists sauntered by.

She watched with wide eyes as the criminalist dusted for fingerprints while detectives examined the body. Police were busy draping yellow crime tape around the appropriate areas and securing the entire compound.

"You okay?" Mike asked, a concerned look on his face.

Connie slowly turned her head and suddenly her eyes collided with his deep blue ones. For a second she became lost in them, she became embraced by them.

Mike wanted so much at that moment to comfort her, to gather her in his arms, to feel her cheek pressed against his chest. He wouldn't say a word to her; he'd simply hold her in his embrace, breathing in the enticing scent of her.

He watched as she took a deep breath and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Mike," she replied, "I've been to a crime scene before, but it's just…this particular murder seemed so gruesome."

The mention of the body made both of them look towards the direction of the deceased, currently covered by a white cloth. The dead alibi witness, Cynthia Morgan, had lost a great deal of blood from the wound in the center of her chest. The knife, which was on the floor beside her, had undoubtedly pierced her heart.

As the experts continued to work on the crime scene one of the detectives concluded that death had been immediate.

Connie shuddered at that thought, her mind now recalling that Doug's brother Tom had also died from a single knife wound to the chest.

"Would you like a glass of water or something?" Mike asked gently.

Connie shook her head, although she now averted looking directly at him, "No, really, Mike, the initial scene took me by surprise, certainly, but I'm perfectly fine now."

"The detectives have finished questioning us, so we can leave anytime."

Mike frantically searched Connie's face, knowing she was putting on a brave front. As if she read his mind, she turned and this time her smile was genuine.

"Perhaps we should delay our departure a little, Mike," she said, purposely leaning forward, keeping her voice low, "this might be the best time to look around the house—we may never get this chance again, don't you think?"

Admiration shone in Mike's eyes at her quick recovery as he grinned, "You want us to head up our own little investigation? I like the way you think! Lead the way."

Both Mike and Connie stood up at the same time, hoping no one would tell them to leave the premises. Luckily everyone was busy performing his or her duties.

They went over and innocently scrutinized a row of framed pictures on the fireplace mantel. Cynthia Morgan, naturally, was in all of them. Douglas Merrick was in some of them.

After scanning the pictures for a time, Mike turned to Connie. She seemed calmer now as she scanned each picture.

"Anything stand out to you?" Mike asked, forever wanting to know what went on in that brilliant mind of hers. One look at her face, however, told him that something was bothering her, "Connie?"

"Nothing stands out yet," Connie stated evenly, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Then why the scowl?" Mike wanted to know.

"…It's just…" Connie stared at the one picture in front of her and then turned to face him, "…it's just…there's something so…powerfully emotional about looking at pictures of someone who has just died, especially when that death was so fast and unexpected."

Mike nodded solemnly, "It is tragic, especially when you see these pictures and think that her life has been full of friends and life."

"She was a beautiful, young woman," Connie said, almost to herself as she studied one particular picture. Tall and blond, she had a girl-next-door look about her.

Mike pointed to another picture, "It seems even her friends were attractive."

In several of the pictures she was standing next to another beautiful woman. With her dark Mediterranean sensuousness, this one stood in sharp contrast to all American girl Cynthia. Sadness made Connie tear up at a young life cut so short.

"Come on, Connie," Mike sensed her turmoil, "let's go in the next room."

The next room looked like what could have been used as a den. This room, like the rest of the house, was light, airy and casual.

"She had an eye for decorating, no doubt," noted Connie as she looked around.

Soft floral prints of peach and green on an overstuffed couch and armchair looked inviting. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lines one wall. Built into them were a big screen television and an elaborate stereo system.

The most appealing part of the room was the view from a large bay window, which had a spectacular view of the bay.

"She sure lived the good life, considering she worked at home as a consultant," Mike said as he walked over to the writing table, "she must have counted her lucky stars when she met the ever debonair Douglas Merrick."

From across the way, Connie tilted her head as she viewed Mike. He almost sounded bitter, or rather cynical with that last statement. Of course, it could be that he felt he was prosecuting a killer, the boyfriend of Cynthia Morgan.

But Mike had been thinking about Merrick's connection with Connie. He tried to think of other matters as he glanced down at the papers on the writing table.

"Connie," Mike called to her, "Take a look. This looks interesting."

"What do you see?" Connie asked as she walked towards him.

Mike had been standing next to a small cherry writing desk, which sat in a corner in front of the large bay window. He was pointing to the pink slip lying underneath a messy stack of papers.

Leaning over the desk, Connie could see it was a deposit slip from the Cape Cod Savings Bank.

"It's a deposit slip," Connie stated the obvious. The amount was blocked from view by the load of papers. Connie reached over to push some of the insignificant papers aside.

At the same time, Mike drew closre to her, leaning over to help move some of the papers aside. Their hands met upon the same paper, the one above the pink deposit slip.

An electrical tingle shot through both of them.

They both stood up as heat rose up to the cheeks on their faces.

Connie felt a rush of excitement trill up her spine. The sensation was even more powerful than when they had knocked shoulders at the front door. Trepidation and attraction seemed mixed in the confusion, and she could not imagine why a simple accidental bump would cause such a reaction.

Mike felt the thrum of his heartbeat as it pounded at a frantic pace. He felt numb with incredulity when he saw the effect the brushing of their hands had on Connie.

"I-I…" he began, but didn't know whether he should even bring up what had just occurred between them.

Connie didn't know what had happened. Whatever she was feeling, it seemed to grow stronger the more she was with Mike.

And that began to scare her. She turned back slowly to the writing desk.

"…the deposit slip, Mike…"her voice sounded shaky.

Mike had been gazing at her, but he forced himself to look down once more at the table. His senses came back to reality when he saw the amount of the deposit. He picked up the deposit slip, clearly stunned.

"What is it?" Connie asked. She had managed to push aside whatever sensations she had felt. If Mike was all business, she could be, too.

He looked up slowly at her, "This deposit was made yesterday," he said slowly, "it is in the amount of ten thousand dollars."

Connie scowled, "Ten _thousand_ dollars?" She took the slip from Mike to peer at the amount herself, "Do you think Doug gave her this money?"

"Either that or the computer consultant business is bigger than I thought," Mike said, "I think it's best we find out…"

He took out his BlackBerry and snapped a picture of the deposit slip.

"Come on," he nudged, "let's go."

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.

At last they took leave of the residence. They stood outside on the porch, knowing they would soon have to separate and go to their delegated offices which in turn meant fraternizing would not be a good idea if they were also going to meet on opposite sides in court.

It would not be a good idea to linger.

"Did you drive your own car?" Mike asked, looking outward at all the vehicles parked outside.

"I took a taxi," stated Connie, "and you?"

"Rental car," he explained, also looking out.

Both knew the conversation was trite, but neither one wanted to leave just yet. It was as if by continuing to talk, they could stay longer with one another.

"Taxis can be very expensive," Mike commented.

"Tell me about it," said Connie, "and it always seems as though the driver is taking the longest route and driving the slowest speed possible."

"I know what you mean," Mike nodded.

They each knew the small conversation would eventually come to an end.

Mike wanted to find an excuse to keep her here. The way he saw it, her reaction to their slight grazing of their hands opened the door to the possibility that the feelings were not one sided.

Connie sensed when Mike had turned to look at her. His stark blue eyes met hers, his rife with curiosity.

"What is this Douglas Merrick to you, anyway?" he asked.

Connie was stunned to hear that question from out of the blue and she quickly averted his gaze. Hadn't they been casually discussing transportation? Why was Mike asking a personal question? More to the point, why was she having such a reaction to him just because he asked that question?

She thought she had closed her heart to any kind of personal relationship with anyone. It never seemed the right time or the right person. After relationships with Doug and Marcus, she felt she just was not good with men. Besides, she wanted to concentrate on her career; there was no room in her life for any man.

Especially now.

"Mike," she tried to sound final as she continued looking out, "I thought we were all about the work, all about the case."

The words were out before she could stop them. She could feel his gaze on her, and his silence bothered her. When she could bear it no longer, she turned to look at him.

The sunlight angled itself through the porch and across his sharply carved features, shadowing parts of his face. She long to see that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. But after her last statement, the light in his eyes had grown dim.

"I see," he quietly stated.

Connie was so confused. It seemed as though every time she looked at Mike, she felt a yearning for an inexplicable something. She just didn't know what it was.

"You do realize, Connie," Mike said, "that I plan to go back to the judge to have Merrick's bail revoked."

Connie kept her expression blank, "And you know, Mike, I will fight it with every fiber of my being."

"To be expected," Mike acknowledged, "but it will be hopeless on your end."

Before she could reply, she felt the vibration of her cellphone.

At the same time, Mike's BlackBerry also signaled a call.

Middleton had texted Connie wanting to know if defense was going to declare a mistrial due to the Cynthia Morgan murder. Josh had text Mike wanting to know if it's true, that Cynthia Morgan's body had been discovered.

Exchanging hesitant looks, it was easy to see what the other one was thinking.

They would to be going up against each other sooner than they had expected.

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	10. Chapter 10

Opposing sides

Chapter 10

Early the next morning, Mike was pacing back and forth in Josh's office. He was speaking to Josh via conference call since Josh was still not feeling well and was laid up in his apartment.

"So what has happened since they found the dead Morgan girl?" Josh asked Mike over the speaker.

"I was able to convince the Judge to revoke Merrick's bail," stated Mike.

"Hey, no kidding, Mikey? Yeesss! Score one for the good guys!" Josh cheered.

"Yeah," said Mike, although he didn't feel happy, "In essence, I made the case to the Judge by saying accused murderers should not be allowed to walk free on bail based on the thickness of their wallets. Double standards and all."

"You the man, my friend!"

Mike stopped pacing. He should feel great that he won a small victory, but for every win on his side, it meant a blow to Connie's side.

"Thanks, Josh… I better be going. Court's in session in an hour."

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At the same time, the mood in Middleton's office was grim. No surprise there. A vibrant young woman had been brutally murdered, reason enough to be frustrated. But now Connie and attorney James Middleton was discussing how Douglas Merrick had lost his only alibi.

Connie explained what had occurred in the Judge's chambers.

"With Doug's bail being revoked, " she said dejectedly to Middleton, "looks like the prosecution has a guardian angel on their side."

"Rubbish!", the other attorney looked stunned, "I cannot believe the Judge revoked the bail! That doesn't make sense! Douglas couldn't _possibly_ have killed Cynthia—that was his girlfriend, for Christ-sakes!"

"And add to that," Connie sighed, "the question, why would he want to kill his only alibi for the night of his brother's murder?"

"You should have fought harder for Douglas, " Middleton accused, "he will not do well in prison."

Connie glared over at Middleton, "I did my best, but personally, I do think the Judge made the right decision."

She felt bad that Doug was back in prison, but she had to admit, Mike was brilliant with his argument.

"I just hope you do better in court," Middleton commented.

Connie started packing her papers, "We'll just have to see, won't we?" she stated coldly, "Court's in session in an hour."

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The baliff stood stiffly, "Please rise. Court is in session. The honorable Judge Patrick Brown presiding."

The gallery was crowded, with the section designated for the press filled to capacity. The Jury Box, however, was empty.

This morning's agenda concerned the death of Doug Merrick's alibi witness, Cynthia Morgan and its impact on the trial. The jury would not hear these early proceedings.

There was a palpable tension in the air as Judge Brown entered and took his place at the bench

"Good morning everyone, " said a business-sounding Judge Brown while everybody took their seats, "Ladies and gentlemen, the death of Ms. Cynthia Morgan was indeed a tragic event. Because she had been an important defense witness, her death has prompted a motion by the defense for a mistrial. I'll hear oral arguments this morning on that motion before we call the jurors in and resume trial if need be,or Iwill dismiss them if I decide there is enough reason for a mistrial."

He now looked over at the defense table, "Miss Rubirosa? I've received your written motion last night and you may now proceed with your argument in court."

Connie stood up, purposely avoiding the gaze of Mike. She needed to keep her wits about her and not become distracted by him.

She was bristling with energy and resolve.

"Thank you, Your Honor," she began, "Yesterday's death of Cynthia Morgan was indeed a shock for us all. Since this has happened," Connie gestured over to a sullen Douglas Merrick, "my client has been on strong tranquilizers, still in shock over her senseless murder. Miss Morgan was a beautiful young woman who was with Mr. Merrick on the night of his brother's unfortunate and distinctly premature demise. She was a solid witness who could testify that she was sharing an intimate, delicious lobster dinner with-"

Mike stood up.

"…_and_ here we go again, "sighed the Judge, as he looked Mike's way, "I assume you are ready to object in surprised indignation over Miss Rubirosa's narrative of lobster again, Mr. Cutter?"

The judge didn't look pleased, but the gallery did.

"Not quite, Your Honor," stated Mike in all seriousness, "and I thank you for your indulgence. It seems to me that Miss Rubirosa is getting to her point by taking the longest route possible to get there; an around-the- world tour, in fact. We do not need to hear her narrative overflowing with inconsequential adjectives at this juncture of the proceedings."

Mike looked over at Connie and he couldn't help but think she looked beautiful when her eyes flared with anger.

Connie shot Mike a look of disdain, but it didn't seem to last long. Try as she might, she couldn't push aside how comforting he had been yesterday.

"Sustained," the Judge agreed with Mike, before adding sardonically, "Let's just please get to the gist of the issue without the adorable romantic set up, Miss Rubirosa."

Now it was Mike's turn to hide the grin as he sat down.

Connie could do nothing but nod, "…Yes of course, Your Honor, I will get to my point quickly…I feel that due to yesterday's tragic death, the defense's ability to fairly and effectively present a case has been terminally compromised. Ms. Morgan was a pivotal witness. That she was with the defendant the night of Tom Merrick's murder isn't hearsay. It's a fact and Ms. Morgan would have stated that fact in this very courtroom, had she had the opportunity. Not only do I consider it patently unfair to be asked to defend Douglas Merrick without Ms. Morgan's testimony, there is the parallel dimension as to how convenient her death is for the People…"

"Your Honor," Mike rose up once more, impatience in his voice, "I was afraid Miss Rubirosa would move in that direction and I highly object…"

"Mr. Cutter is interrupting me again, Your Honor," Connie said, stating the obvious while a look of frustration covered her face.

"The assumption is so ridiculous, how can I not?" Mike interjected, "Surely defense counsel is not assuming anyone in the DA's office was responsible for Ms. Morgan's death?"

"I implied nothing of the sort!" Connie defended herself.

"Then what are you saying?" Mike had asked Connie.

Mike and Connie were looking at each other, as if no one else in the courtroom mattered. The Judge lifted his gavel and banged it.

"Although the jury is not present," the Judge warned, "we must abide by proper court proceedings. Please address the court, not opposing counsel!"

"Of course, Your Honor," said Mike, although he was still watching Connie, "The insinuation that the prosecution might view Miss Morgan's death as a benefit insults me to the very core of my being!"

"Your Honor," Connie countered, as she looked straight at Mike, "Surely even Mr. Cutter, along with his 'inner core', can see that the timing of Ms. Morgan's death is convenient for the prosecution!"

"Your Honor," Mike responded, "Miss Rubirosa is off the mark with what she is implying…"

Judge Brown was getting a whiplash from all the debating.

He wielded his gavel, "Order!" he insisted loudly, "We are not in divorce court and I will not tolerate this sort of bickering between counsels!"

Mike and Connie stared in stunned silence at the words 'divorce court'. The thought that they sounded like an old bickering married couple gave them pause.

Connie let out a breath to calm herself down.

"I apologize again to the court, Your Honor," she stated, "It was my understanding that the defense and the prosecution would have equal opportunity to present its argument regarding this motion for a mistrial. Mr. Cutter is treading on _my_ time, something I find both bothersome yet so characteristically _him_."

Everyone turned for Mike's reaction. They had expected him to jump up any second. Instead he remained seated. The only clue that it even affected him was that he looked as though he were grinding his teeth, making his jaw jut out slightly more. Still, he did not argue, he did not say a thing.

"No comment, no indignant outburst, Mr. Cutter?" The Judge couldn't help asking.

Mike addressed the Judge, "I am patiently waiting my turn, Your Honor."

"Well, that is a certainly a turn of events!" the Judge announced, "Miss Rubirosa, continue please."

"Nothing further, Your Honor." Connie stated, surprising everyone, as she sat down.

The Judge looked stunned. He then turned to Mike, "Uh...alright...Mr. Cutter?"

Mike stood up and began, "Your Honor…"

It was then that Connie took that moment to stand, for a new strategy had just entered her mind, "Begging the court's indulgence…"

The entire courtroom burst forth with smiles at Connie's inopportune interruption.

Judge Brown placed his elbow on his bench top and rested his head on his opened hand, "I should have known it would be your turn to interrupt now, Miss Rubirosa…"

"But Your Honor," stated Mike, before Connie could speak, "As you had stated earlier, counsel for each side should have a turn in presenting their arguments for and against this motion for a mistrial. I believe this is my time…"

Connie quickly interrupted by talking over Mike.

"…_I would like to withdraw the motion for a mistrial…"_ Connie threw in her proposal quickly, throwing everyone off-balanced.

There was a surprised intake of breath from the entire courtroom. The court reporter looked up in shock and reporters began scribbling on their pads.

"What?" Mike asked.

"What?" the Judge asked, "Miss Rubirosa, do you care to elaborate? Quickly, now, before Mr. Cutter realizes it is not his turn and objects."

Connie threw Mike a look before proceeding.

"I do not have any doubt as to the innocence of my client," Connie continued, "And I believe that the People do not have one credible shred of evidence to link my client to the murder of his brother. I am prepared, therefore, to move forward with the defense after a continuance of a week, during which time I will be able to restructure the presentation of our case _without_ the testimony of Cynthia Morgan."

Connie sat back down.

The Judge was still trying to recover, "Uh, Mr. Cutter, what say you to the motion of a continuance?"

"I would like to argue _against_ the continuance," Mike stated, opposing Connie.

The Judge rolled his eyes, "Of course you would."

Mike chose to ignore the Judge's snide remark.

"A continuance would not be necessary, Your Honor, "Mike stated, "for it would take the prosecution at least a week to present its case. Surely that is ample time for the defense to regroup."

Connie spoke out, "I object to…"

"Stop, just stop," the Judge interrupted, "It is almost lunchtime and I am hungry, so let me make my ruling. I do not find any grounds for a mistrial based upon the death of a witness. Furthermore, I find Mr. Cutter to be correct in his reasoning. The defense will have plenty of time to alter its strategy. We will take a lunch break now and court will resume after lunch at two…" he started to get up, remembered something and sat back down again, "…oh and just one more thing."

Mike and Connie had been gathering their papers and immediately stopped and faced the Judge.

"Both of you are found in contempt of court" the Judge stated calmly, "It has been an interesting morning in court, but nevertheless, both of you have not conducted yourselves within the parameters of proper court etiquette. Therefore I have no choice but to thank each of you in advance for your contributions of $500.00, payable to the courts…now go pay your fines and have a nice lunch…Court adjourned."

From across tables, Mike and Connie darted looks at one another as if to say,_ "It's your fault_" as the gavel came down.

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	11. Chapter 11

Thoughts of Mike

Chapter 11

From the defense table, Connie stood stunned as she heard the Judge fined her for contempt of court. _Un-believable!_

In the meantime, she was brought back to the present when two guards surrounded Douglas Merrick and locked him in handcuffs, ready to lead him back to prison.

"Connie," he pleaded, attempting to reach out before being held back, "Please! I can't take it in there! You gotta get me out of there!"

"Doug, just…hold on a little longer…" encouraged Connie, who felt stressed from the morning proceedings.

"Promise you'll visit me soon!" as he was being led away.

"I'll come soon, Doug..." Connie, assured him, as the two guards guided him through the doorway and he was gone.

Connie blew out an aggravated puff of breath. She knew there was nothing more she could do for him as far as revoking his bail. The only way he would be released is if she could prove his innocence.

Right now she needed to concentrate on the trial on hand. That brought her back to the present and the reminder that she had never been held in contempt of court before today. In fact, she had never even gotten a parking ticket!

And it was all because of…

She darted a look over to the prosecution table.

Mike was busily gathering his papers. He did not seem bothered at all to be fined. But then, this would not have been his first offense in that area, she concluded. She had not even realized that she had been staring at Mike the entire time he had been packing until he suddenly stopped and gazed back at her..

Soon his intense blue eyes were locked with her annoyed dark ones.

It took Connie a full five seconds to remember how to breathe. A tremor ran though her at his bewildered gaze.

For Mike it seemed that whenever she was in the same room with him, it was nearly impossible to be aware of anything but her presence. She was so feminine, yet she was his equal in every way, especially when she faced him in court. But she wasn't looking at him now as if he were an adversary. She was looking at him...with a look of intimacy.

_And for one space of a heartbeat Mike wanted to believe she was attracted to him_.

It was so quiet that they could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall and that was what broke his trance. He was the first to look away.

Mike knew he needed to face reality, not dream of castles in the air. Connie would always be a colleague, nothing more. She had made it clear to him on several occasions. Clicking his briefcase closed he started walking away from the table.

Connie's senses were heightened when he headed in her direction, but it was merely to reach the swinging gate door that led out to the main aisle and out the exit door of the courthouse.

And in a moment he was gone.

.

.

Connie's heart felt heavy as she got in her car. She needed to push thoughts of Mike out of her mind and concentrate on getting her client acquitted. The first thing she needed to do was find out whom had given the murdered victim, Cynthia Morgan, ten thousand dollars.

In court earlier, Doug had insisted he did not do that. In the past he had in the past given Cindy a stipend in order for her to live on, but it was nowhere near that amount of money.

After going through a drive thru for a quick lunch, she took a taxi and arrived at the Cape Cod Union Bank in no time. Walking in, she approached one of the office workers sitting behind a desk with a nameplate, and asked to speak to the bank manager.

Harrison Bradley was summoned and introduced himself to Connie, who produced her ADA badge from New York. They both walked into his office and he sat behind his huge desk while gesturing Connie to sit in the visitor's chair across from him.

"What brings you here…Miss Rubirosa?"

Connie explained she was working for the defense on the Merrick case and she had been a witness when the body of Cynthia Warren was discovered at her home.

"Oh, a shame, yes, a shame…" Bradley sadly nodded," I was indeed distressed to hear of Miss Morgan's demise. She was a most lovely lady. "

"So you _do_ know her? She _does_ have an account here, then?" Connie questioned him.

Bradley realized his mistake. Well, there's no point denying it now, he thought, "Yes, I can admit that much to you. But how does that concern your visit here?"

"I need to know the name of the person who made out the check to her," Connie asked, "the information will help me in defending my client, Douglas Merrick."

"So you are asking me to see a copy of that particular check?" he asked, with a scowl on his brow.

"Or, a name, at the very least."

The bank manager leaned forward in order to make his point, "Though I would like to help you in your investigation, I'm sorry I cannot, Miss Rubirosa. The state guidelines for banking institutions do not allow me to release banking information regarding our customers to anyone who walks through our doors. Surely you must understand my position."

Connie took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice even, "As I have stated to you, Mr. Bradley, this is an ongoing investigation. Knowing that Mr. Merrick did _not _write that check will help in his defense."

Bradley pfft her remark, "Merely because you show me an out-of-the-state law enforcement badge does not authorize me to help you, Miss Rubirosa," he explained, "although I don't doubt you are on the case, I need something more official before I can release any information. I'm very sorry."

"So you need a subpoena?"

Bradley nodded, "That would be nice, or if not that, a law enforcement officer would even be better…just like what that other gentleman did earlier today."

The words snapped Connie to attention, "_What _ gentleman?" she insisted.

"Someone from the DA's office brought along the police chief…"

"Do you know his name?" she quickly asked, and just to make herself more clear, she added, "not the police chief's name...the name of the _gentleman_?"

"Let's see," Bradley recalled, as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to recall, "What was that gentleman's name? _Cutler_ was it?"

"Cutter?" Connie tried to keep her voice from sounding frustrated and stunned, but it was difficult, "Michael _Cutter?"_

The bank manager snapped his fingers, "Yes! That's it!" then his expression turned disappointed again, "So I'm sorry if I can not help you with what you need. However, if I can be of further service to you…."

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Connie practically stomped out to her car. There was no way in hell she was going to call and talk with Mike on the phone. She wanted to see him in person, see his reaction when she berated him for withholding information from her. Then she would insist that he tell her the name of the individual who wrote Cynthia Morgan a $10,000 check.

_Yeah__**,** she thought sardonically**, that's**__ why she wanted to see him._

She didn't know where Mike was at the moment, but she knew someone who would know—Josh. After calling Lethem and insisting she was coming over, he had no choice but to give her his address. Connie took another taxi and in twenty minutes she had arrived.

Josh lived in a stunning townhouse located in an upper middle class area of Boston, down Tremont Street. _He sure has done well for himself,_ Connie thought, as she recalled how upset and downtrodden he had been when Jack had fired him. She knocked on his door.

He answered the door immediately.

"Well, as I live and breathe! Connie Rubirosa!" he had a big smile, "Come in!'

Josh opened the door wider to allow Connie into his bachelor pad. His modern residence, complete with hardwood floors, recessed lighting, beautiful crown moldings and high ceilings, immediately impressed Connie.

"Josh," Connie greeted him with one raised eyebrow, as he bade her to sit, "You sure are looking well for someone who is 'under-the-weather'."

Josh grinned.

"It's the miracle of a good night sleep and antibiotics that the doctor had prescribed for me," informed Josh, "As you can see, I am not quite the picture of health, more like the snapshot of health!…Hey! I got some orange juice that Mikey had bought me the other day. You want some…or maybe something heavier to relieve that lost motion in court, perhaps?"

So Josh knew. Maybe Mike told him because he was staying here? Connie thought, looking around for clues. But there wasn't hint at all that someone else was rooming here.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Connie repsonded as Josh left to get himself some orange juice for himself. As she watched Josh go over to the refrigerator, her mind grasped the fact that Josh did indeed looked as if he had recovered.

So did that mean he would be lead prosecutor once again?

Connie thought that if Josh took over the case again, she should feel relieved with the idea of not to be going up against Mike any further. Their courtroom interactions have definitely been volatile and combative. But instead, she felt a sinking feeling in her heart.

When Josh was seated again, she continued, "I guess this means you will be coming back to the Merrick case?"

She felt she was sitting at the edge of her seat, waiting for him to answer.

Josh's expression turned to one of annoyance, "You would think so, right? I should be the one heading the case, but guess what happened?"

"What happened, Josh?"

"When I informed the DA that I was ready to lead the case, he decided that he was going to keep Mike in as first chair!"

Connie felt her heart sailing, "Oh?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice light and her heartbeat steady, "And why is that?"

Josh gave a look of frustration.

"Hell, it doesn't make any sense to me!" Josh said. He then looked directly at Connie, "Actually part of the reason the DA is keeping my buddy on the case is because of _you_!"

She actually felt a nervous thump in her heart, "Me? What do you mean?"

"What I mean, " Josh stated, "is that you two have become the media darlings of the courtroom! Yeah, that's right…come see the opposing lawyers bicker! Witness for yourself the professional tension! My god, according to all news sources, you two have _doubled_ the number of people lining up around the courthouse to get a seat in the gallery! The press media has also tripled in size, all wanting a chance at seeing first hand the Merrick attorneys go head to head against one another. You two have managed to put on quite a show."

Connie sat back, stunned, "I didn't know, Josh…I had no idea…"

"Well, believe it," Josh said, "Twitter is all in a rage, thousands tweeting that the case should be televised."

Connie was just flabbergasted by what Josh had told her, yet she felt relieved that Mike was still on the case.

"I'm just an attorney, trying to defend my client against a murder charge," Connie managed to say quietly at she peered at Josh.

"Yeah, yeah, " said Josh, "that's probably what O.J.'s attorneys announced to everyone, too…anyway, …why are you here again?"

"Uh, I was wondering if you could tell me where Mike is at the moment."

She tried to sound nonchalant, but even she could make out the desperation in her tone.

Josh looked at her, as if he were trying to analyze her, "Why the rush to see him?" he simply asked.

Connie tried to keep her face placid, "Mike has some evidence that he received today that could help me in my defense of Douglas Merrick."

"And?" Josh looked surprised, "What's the deal? You know as well as I do, Connie that if he received it today, I'm sure he'll turn it over for discovery. You just have to wait while the info is put through the proper channels. It'll get to your defense team soon enough..."

"But I want that information _now,_ " Connie said, "Please Josh, I need to see Mike."

Her eyes got round at the way she had worded her last phrase, "What I meant…"

Josh's eyes lit up, "Oooohhh…" he interrupted, "so you want to see him _now_, is it?" he purposely teased.

Connie could feel the blush coming all the way to her cheeks, "Stop it, Josh, just let me know where he is…it's…professional, believe me."

"You sure about that? After all our Mikey boy is quite a catch," Josh couldn't help continue with the teasing, "he's no Josh Lethem, of course, but then who is?"

"Josh…" though she tried as hard as she could, Connie was unable to keep the irritable tone out of her voice, "Could you _please _just tell me where I might find Mike, then I'll be quickly on my way."

Josh folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in a relaxed manner, "I'm not sure, Connie, if Mike wants to see _you_…"

Connie stood up, "Fine, Josh! I'll find him myself!"

She started to get up to leave.

Josh then sat up, "Whoa! Wait, Rubirosa, no need to rush off in such a big huff! I never said I _wouldn't_ tell you…"

Connie looked impatiently at him, "So then, spill the beans, Josh."

"Let's just say," he began lazily, "that our little Mikey went to his interpretation of church today." Josh purposely sounded vague as he dropped his clue, enjoying his little game.

He expected a confused look on Connie's face, but instead, her entire face lit up for the first time.

"Thank you, Josh," she smiled confidently, "I think I know where I might find him!"

Josh's face fell as he stared off into space, "What? How could you kn—" and then he stopped himself, realizing that if anyone knew Mike, it would be the person who interacted with him 24/7.

Josh just hoped Mike wouldn't be angry for letting Rubirosa know where he was. But, thought, Josh, he didn't actually _say_ where Mike was. Maybe Rubirosa got it wrong.

When Josh looked over to Connie to ask if she really knew what he had meant, she was no longer there.

The door had slammed and Josh realized that Connie was already well on her way.

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	12. Chapter 12

Fenway Park

Chapter 12

Boston's Fenway Park is a national landmark, a Mecca for Red Sox fans and general baseball aficionados alike.

Unlike other baseball fields that have had major renovations done, Fenway Park has retained much of its traditional ways. Instead of expanding to accommodate modern expectations, the seats in this park have remained as it had 100 years ago, closer in distance to the field than any other Major League baseball park. This feeling of intimacy is immediately felt, making Fenway arguably, "the best place in the world to watch a baseball game."

And in this now emptied, antiquated ballpark, way up in one of the last rows sat one prosecutory fan.

Mike sat far up in the stands alone, in one of the archaic green fold- up seats. He had chosen to sit in the "nosebleed" section, for it offered him a stunning view of the infield.

His gaze scrutinized the entire ball-field, his mind lost in his ideal of heaven. As he sat alone in the empty stadium, Mike's hands were pressed together, almost in a prayer-like gesture, for he truly was at _his_ place of worship.

It had always been a thrill for him to be in a ballpark, even when a game was not being played. He liked the charm of this retro baseball-only built stadium. There was just something special about the incredibly fresh smell of newly cut grass and the earthy odor of freshly marked baselines. He considered those things the very essence of baseball.

Truly baseball for him was more than just a game.

Sitting in this nostalgic stadium, he only needed to close his eyes to hear the THWACKING sound of a wooden bat against a baseball. This would immediately be followed by the cheers of the roaring crowd.

"Mike?"

Mike's senses sparked in recognition at the sound of Connie's voice. Turning around slowly, he met her questioning gaze with a stunned one of his own. He haltingly rose from where he had been seated.

"Connie,' he looked pleased, "It's…incredible that you're here…did, uh, Josh tell you I was here?"

Connie couldn't prevent a smile, "No, not quite…he told me you had gone to church," and her arms gestured openly towards the field, "and knowing you, I figured to come here."

She continued eyeing him with an arrested expression. All manners of their courtroom disagreements were well forgotten as Mike found himself staring into her soft brown eyes. He thought her eyes were always so lucid, intelligent and oh, so very lovely.

"Uh, may I sit?" she tentatively asked.

"Oh, of course!" he pointed to the seat next to his, "Please, have a seat and stay awhile."

She grinned and held up a large brown bag before she sat down, "I was hoping you'd say that, so I've managed to scrounge up some refreshments for us!"

"…and why do you think I asked you to sit?" he teased as he waited for her to sit before he took his seat.

Smiling alluringly, she sat and unfolded the top of the bag. She brought out two bottles of cokes and she passed one of them to Mike.

"To baseball," Connie smiled as she held up her bottle to make a toast.

"To baseball, " said an agreeable Mike.

They joyfully clanked bottles before taking part in the refreshing drinks. Then they placed the bottles down, sat back and viewed the surroundings before them in silence.

"What do you see out there, Connie?" he asked at last, referring to the entire ball park.

Connie looked out beyond her, not really knowing what Mike was trying to get at, "Hmmm…a baseball field."

"It's more than that, you know," he said quietly but emphatically, "What you have here is a legend of a baseball stadium. Fenway Stadium is a throwback to the golden era of baseball. It is full of old fashioned quirks and mystique."

"Go on,' She encouraged, taking in everything Mike was saying.

Mike pointed to the solitaire wooden red seat that sat amidst rows and rows of faded green ones, "Do you see that one lone red-painted seat in the right field bleachers over there, across the way?" he asked as Connie nodded, "that marks Fenway's longest measurable homer, hit by Ted Williams in 1946."

"Wow," Connie whispered in almost awe, appreciating how fans revered sports history.

"…Yeah, Section 42, Row 37, Seat 21," he stated, with Connie impressed that he knew these facts offhand, "and see the scoreboard over there?" he pointed out, "it's the only hand-operated scoreboard in all of the professional ballparks."

"I'm loving all these nostalgic facts, Mike."

"It's truly a classic ballpark."

Her appreciation of his passion for this place caused Mike to turn and face her. He tried hard not to feel her nearness but failed miserably as he struggled with his reaction to her. Mike knew he had always harbored feelings for her deep inside, but lately, it seemed more difficult for them not to come bubbling up to the surface, especially at times like this when she seemed to understand completely.

She was now close enough for him to admire the silken threads of her hair, which seemed to tumble to her shoulders and her flushed cheeks, glowing with feminine beauty.

"Thank you, Connie." He simply stated.

She stared back at him, her gaze questioning and intent.

"Thank me for what, Mike?"

"For being here," he said, "for sharing this with me."

Connie was absurdly aware of the sound of her own breathing. The air seemed charged with sensual tension.

Mike struggled to contain a swell of emotion that was almost more than he could bear. Despite his private protestations, his hand came up and gently caressed the side of her cheek, his thumb moving in a subtle swirl.

Connie could barely breathe as she gave a responsive shiver, making Mike aware of what he was doing. Taking her shuddering as a sign of offense, he began to remove his hand but Connie reflexively reached up and grabbed his wrist to keep his hand on her cheek.

"Connie?" his voice sounded half surprised, half husky.

It scared Connie to think how Mike always had the oddest effect on her, making her heart slam when he was so near her like this.

"Mike," Connie half-whispered, "I'm not sure if this should be happening."

"You can tell me to stop," Mike said hoping against hope, "We can get up and leave, right now. Make this as if it never happened."

His thumb began once more to caress her cheek, leaving a trail of heat every place he touched.

"Don't stop," was her reply.

And then before he could stop himself, he leaned over to kiss her.

His mouth moved over hers in supple, intimate angles, until he found some perfect alignment that made her weak all over. Her first reaction was that she went still with surprise. As the kiss continued, and his arms went around her, however, Connie found she craved the hard, deliciously masculine texture of him and she absorbed his scent and taste greedily.

When she reached around his neck to pull him closer, it only encouraged him more. Connie could feel her whole body become alive with pleasure. With each inhalation, she drew in more of his fragrance, the trace of sandalwood and the fresh outdoors on a warm male skin.

When they separated at last, his kiss seemed seared on her lips. Her heart was ablaze.

"Connie," Mike spoke at last, his voice sounding husky, "I never expected…"

Connie had been watching his expression. Lately, she had been so aware of him, how he occupied her waking thoughts. But eventually, she would have to go back to working with him in New York City.

"I don't think," her voice whispery, "we should talk about it now. We're in the middle of a murder case. Maybe we can chalk this up to all the pent-up stress from working on the case."

"Yeah, sure," deadpanned Mike, "I can't tell you how many times I've kissed a co-worker when all the pressure starts piling up!"

His comment seemed to dissipate the tension and Connie could not hide the smile on her lips.

A comforting quietness settled over them. They sat back awhile in deep contemplation, waiting for their breathing to become regular while absorbing the ambiance of the ballpark.

Then it occurred to Mike to wonder why Connie was even here.

"Connie, you obviously were able to find me here. I'm thinking it wasn't to bring me a drink, so why are you here to see me?"

A rueful breath escaped from her, as she remembered why she came to see him in the first place.

"That's right, " she worked at keeping her voice even, "earlier, you had gone to the bank earlier to find out who had written that $10,000 check to Cynthia Morgan, hadn't you?"

Mike was actually relieved to be on safe ground again, discussing the case.

"I had," he admitted, trying to keep his feet on the ground although he felt as if he just reached the heavens, "and you will receive the name as soon as I finished my investigation into it."

Mike's words helped Connie to face reality again. He was, after all, her adversary in court.

"As soon as you finish? That's not how it works, Mike, and you know it!" said Connie, suddenly all businesslike, "You have an obligation to reveal any evidence you've uncovered to defense counsel."

"True, but you know how it is with paperwork…" Mike said, letting his voice trail off.

"Mike!"

"Alright, Connie," By his tone, Connie at last realized that he had been jesting with her and she was able to calm down, "the name of the person who wrote the check was Harry Maxwell…"

Connie knew that name from somewhere. But where?

"Harry Maxwell?" Connie questioned, her forehead crinkling, "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

Mike looked out to view the field once again. Whatever 'moment' that had occurred between them had been broken, with the case occupying that space now.

"It took me a while to figure it out, too," Mike said.

"And?"

"And," explained Mike, ""Harry Maxwell is one of the alternate jurors."

"What?" Connie didn't get the connection.

Just then her cellphone rang. At first she wasn't going to answer it, but upon glancing at the ID, she saw it was Middleton.

She ruefully looked back at Mike, "Sorry, I better get this. It may be important."

He nodded understandably as she put the phone to her ear.

"Mr. Middleton?" Connie answered.

"Where the hell you've been?" he asked rudely, "I've been expecting you back in the office! You need to let me know at all times your location."

"I don't think it's necessary since I am only a phone call away," pointed out Connie, as she gave Mike an embarrassed look, "I just hope _this_ was not the reason why you called?"

"No," Middleton responded, "believe me, anything I have to say to you will be something worthwhile to say."

Connie sighed. He was not saying much of anything but she forced herself to be patient, "I'm listening."

"It's concerning Doug," he simply said.

Alarms rang in Connie's head, "What about him?"

She heard Middleton give a tired sigh, "He's not handling prison life very well."

Connie closed her eyes with relief, "He's alright in there, isn't he?"

"Yes, and no," Middleton stated, "Douglas is safe, but he's on suicide watch. He's been asking for you, by the way. I believe, Miss Rubirosa, it's best you go visit him.."

As Connie remained on the phone, she glanced over at Mike, but he was lost in thought as he gazed out to the field. The feel of his lips was still branded on hers. What had happened between her and Mike was something indescribable. She didn't know what to make of it, but tearing herself away from him was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet she had no choice. Her client needed her.

Connie's relaxing afternoon with Mike just came to a rapid close.

"I'm on my way," she responded with a regretful sigh.

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	13. Chapter 13

Connie visits

Chapter 13

Poor Doug, she thought as she drove in her car, away from Mike and the stadium. She was halfway to Rikers to visit Doug when her cellphone rang again, shattering the silence in the car. _What now?_ She wondered as she put it on speaker phone.

"Rubirosa here."

"Miss Rubirosa, it's Middleton again. You need to report back to the office first."

What Connie really wanted to do was go home,bundle herself in bed, and read for the rest of the day, "Mr. Middleton, is this really necessary? I thought you said that Doug was in dire straits."

"Let's just say," Middleton hinted, "that I just discovered that Douglas Merrick's alibi has gone up in smoke."

Connie was puzzled.

"What do you mean?" asked Connie, "You already knew his alibi flew out the window when Cynthia Morgan had been found murdered."

"Please don't waste my time questioning my requests!" he said impatiently, "If I say you need to come to my office, that's what you need to do! And make it quick! I'll be expecting you…"

Connie quickly turned her car around.

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Reluctantly Connie strode quickly through the doors of Middleton's office building.

She was slightly out of breath when she appeared at the doorway of his office. As always, Middleton was sitting at the corner edge of his desk, but this time, he seemed to be conversing with someone else in his office.

That person had his back to Connie, but when he stood up and turned to face her, Connie felt something catch in her throat as her heart ricocheted against her rib cage.

For the person standing before her was Mike.

His gaze swept over her in masculine assessment, lingering on her face. The sight of her so soon after seeing her, still managed to take his breath away.

Connie felt flutterings inside of her at the unexpected sight of him. She stared into the clear blues of his eyes, thinking they looked so warm and utterly inviting.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Don't worry, Miss Rubirosa," interjected Middleton, "Mr. Cutter is here on a goodwill mission."

Even though Middleton had been speaking, Connie could only look at Mike.

Connie tilted her head at Mike, "Oh? Is that so, Mr. Cutter?"

At the sound of her addressing him formally, Mike's smiled mischievously.

"I did not want to be accused of holding anything back from the defense, Miss Rubirosa," he explained, almost adding the word, _again_, "so I personally brought over this letter that Miss Morgan allegedly wrote."

He handed a manila envelope to Connie who hesitantly took it and lifted the flap up before pulling out the piece of paper and scanning its contents.

The was written on Cynthia Morgan's letterhead and was dated the day of her murder:

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_To Whom it May Concern:_

_ I can no longer keep the dark secret inside of me. It is too much of a heavy burden for me to carry, even if it means not protecting the man I love, Douglas Merrick._

_ I had agreed to say Dougie was with me the night of Tom's murder because I loved him. But that was not quite the truth. _

_Yes, he was with me that day, but earlier. We did buy lobster, but he left before dinner after receiving a call from his brother. Dougie seemed very upset with the call, as he was getting ready to leave._

_So as far as I know, he was on his way to meet his brother at the Swan Boats in the Public Garden on the night Tom was murdered. _

_And what occurred there, God only knows._

It was signed, "_Cynthia Morgan_"

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"Is this authentic?" Connie wanted to know.

"It was postmarked Harwichport, Cape Cod," Mike said, "obviously Cynthia must have mailed it the morning she was murdered."

"No, I don't think so," Connie shook her head.

Both men in the room looked stunned at her assertion.

"What makes you say that, Miss Rubirosa?" Middleton asked.

"When we saw her body at the murder scene, she had been dressed in pajamas and a robe and her hair was not combed," Connie stated.

Understanding lit Mike's face up," I see where you're going with this, Connie."

"Which is what?" Middleton asked, confused.

"Cynthia was a very attractive woman," Connie explained, "Every picture showed her to be meticulous in her appearance. She would not have left the house unless she looked presentable."

Middleton looked unconvinced, "Maybe…maybe she threw on some clothes just to mail it, came back home immediately and got back into her pj's and robe."

"Your scenario," Mike argued to Middleton, "doesn't make sense…she came home, took off her make up and mussed up her hair again? Not likely. She definitely did not go out that morning."

" I think someone else mailed that letter," Connie stated.

"Someone she asked?" Middleton questioned.

"Or someone who wanted that letter mailed," Connie responded, "Is it her signature?"

"I have a call out to one of the best handwriting experts in New England to authenticate the signature," Middleton said.

"…as do I," added Mike. Connie had almost forgotten that he was working on the other side.

"I didn't see a typewriter or a computer when I was at her house, " Connie tried to recall, "Did you, Mike?"

"Not that I can remember," Mike responded, "but that doesn't mean she didn't have one in a closet or a cabinet."

Middleton looked back and forth between the two attorneys, a surprised expression on his face. They had always seemed so combative in court, "Uh…you two had gone to Cynthia's house…_together?_"

Connie blushed, "No, I had accidentally bumped into Mike when I had arrived at Cynthia's house. Little did we know we were to stumble upon a crime scene, " Connie then tried to change the subject, "Does the Judge have the original letter?" she asked.

"Yes," Middleton concurred, "and since Mr. Cutter was so kind to hand-deliver a copy of the letter to us, I wanted him to know that we plan to file a motion to suppress this."

Well, since you are so kind to tell me your courtroom strategy," said Mike, understanding that Middleton was being slightly condescending, "I will tell YOU that the Judge will strike your motion down."

"So you say, Mr. Cutter," continued Middleton, "but who's to say you've just received it this morning? My instincts tell me you've had it longer than that."

Connie could tell the air was getting tense

"Actually I ran it over here the minute I received it," countered Mike.

"So say you again," Middleton sounded doubtful, "what I think actually happened was the DA had you probably withhold it, intending to use it as a 'trump card' just in case."

Connie could see a storm brewing in the blues of Mike's eyes. He opened his mouth to defend himself. She turned towards Middleton.

"That's enough, James," Connie declared with finality, as Middleton looked shock at Connie using the familiarity of his first name, "What you are accusing the prosecution of doing that doesn't even make sense! I doubt if prosecution purposely withheld evidence, especially since that evidence would only _help_ them. "

Middleton looked uncomfortable, as Mike snuck a glance at Connie, silently appreciating how she stuck up for him.

Connie looked at her watch. Court would be later this afternoon.

If there is nothing else to discuss," said Connie, as she stood up, "I need to leave, for… my personal errand that I need to do." Connie did not know why, but she did not want Mike to know she had planned on visiting Doug.

"Let me walk with you," Mike boldly suggested as he also stood up.

Middleton scowled for the second time that day. What is going on with these two? He wondered. He had read and seen on the news how these two adversaries were bringing a whole new level of interest to the case. Could it be what was animosity was something else entirely?

"Yes, Connie," interjected Middleton purposely, "You better be off._ Doug_ is anxiously waiting for your arrival."

So now Mike knew she was visiting Doug. Connie shot a look at Mike to see his reaction, and she didn't imagine it. He actually took a step away from her.

"Mike, I—" she began.

"That's fine," he said quietly with dismissive nod, "Have a nice visit, Connie."

.

.

.

In the enclosed room, Connie sat behind the glass partition waiting for the arrival of prisoner Douglas Merrick. When he entered the room, Connie was stunned by his appearance. Just being in prison a couple of days had aged him. Gone was the charismatic golden boy Yuppie who could easily party on any yacht.

Instead, his eyes were sunken and his lip twitched as he slowly lowered himself across a scarred wooden table in a room reserved for visitors. A guard stood outside the door. In the middle of the glass window was a speaker, so visitors did not have to communicate by picking up a phone cradle to speak.

"Doug?" Connie tried not to look alarmed, "How are you holding up?" She actually knew the answer to that, for it was written all over his handsome face.

"Connie," he looked devastated, "God, I hate it in here! I don't understand any of this! Why would the Judge revoke my bail? I didn't go anywhere when I was out on bail, right?"

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Connie was attempting to be as gentle as she could, "but you understand…it was due to the murder of Cynthia."

"Cindy, oh my Cindy!" his eyes were dull, with no light shining in them, "I-I can't believe it…Connie, what will I do without her?"

"I know…it is so tragic, Doug," Connie tried to comfort him, "but you have to be strong and try to carry on. She would want you to."

"I don't know if I can survive in here…" his eyes seemed to be shimmering with sadness, "Please help me, Connie…"

"I'm working hard on your defense, Doug."

He tried to calm himself down, "I know, I know. I appreciate everything you have done for me…you were always good for me…_we _were always good together…and I still don't understand why we ever broke up…"

_My god, wasn't his girlfriend just killed?_ Connie took in a deep breath. She knew this talk would eventually come, and it could not come at a more inopportune time.

"Doug, look," she said, "We've got a long trial ahead of us…and you just have to pull yourself together…I need to talk about the case now…I have some questions for you because I am trying to piece together some things so that I could give you the best defense possible."

He seemed lost in himself.

_What did I ever see in him?_ Connie thought to herself. Was she so young that she couldn't see beyond his good looks and shallow personality? All their reckless, lavish times together back then had made it seem like a whirlwind romance.

The bottom of Doug's lips quivered.

"Doug! Did you hear me?" Connie tried not to sound impatient.

"Y-yes," Doug slouched and looked down, "You have some questions for me?"

Connie nodded, "By now, you've probably heard about the letter Cynthia wrote saying you two were not together at the time Tom was killed."

"That's a lie!" he looked indignant, "I was with her! And that letter? She never wrote it!"

"Do you think someone might have gotten her to write the letter?" Connie asked, "Coerced her into doing it? Or paid her to do it?"

He shook his head, "I don't know, I don't KNOW!"

"Did she ever mention a Harry Maxwell to you?"

Doug shook his head again, "No, why?"

"No reason," Connie responded. She would try a different approach, "Doug, tell me about Gina Marchetti."

Gina Marchetti had been the female that had accused Doug of raping her.

"That b*tch?" then he realized what he had said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to curse in front of you."

He then explained to Connie that Gina was an attractive woman who used men to get what she wanted. She only hung around men with money. That she would use her body to get the men to do her bidding: paying her rent, her bills or buying clothes and jewelry.

The guard stuck his head in, "Ten more minutes," he told Connie as she nodded.

Connie needed to hurry if she was going to get any more information.

"Tell me anything you can about your brother, Tom"

Doug guffawed, "What is there to say? He was the go-to guy. Knew how to run the Merrick business. Brilliant but selfish. He couldn't enjoy life like me, you know?" Doug half smiled at Connie, "It was all about the money. He would do anything for money."

"Do you know anyone who might have a reason for killing your brother?"

Disappointingly he shook his head, "No one obvious. But I bet whoever killed him, killed Cindy, too."

Connie tilted her head, "And why would you say that?"

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" he asked, "I mean, they were killed the same way, knife to the chest and all. And she was going to testify that I was with her the night Tom was killed. Whoever killed Tom wants me convicted of the crime."

Connie nodded understandably. It made sense.

The door opened.

"I have to go, Doug," Connie started to get up.

"Wait! Connie!" Doug gave her a look of desperation.

Connie paused before sitting back down. She at least owed him some time, "What, what is it Doug?"

"Say something to give me hope.." his eyes were pleading.

Connie looked baffled, "You mean about the case?"

"No, about _us_," he said, "when you prove me innocent…tell me there's the smallest chance of us being together at the end of all this. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Please…I need to hear you say it!"

Connie needed to be direct.

"Doug, we already gave it a try and it didn't work out. That part of out life is over. We need to move on."

After Connie blurted the words out, she felt slightly shaken. She never thought herself as the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, but when she had told Doug _we need to move on, _an image of Mike had suddenly popped up in her mind and somehow it was as if Doug knew.

Doug searched her face, looking deeply into her eyes… her beautiful eyes that truly were the window to her soul. And in those truthful eyes he saw something there that he had never seen before.

"My god," he realized, "There's someone else, isn't there?"

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	14. Chapter 14

Another Courtroom Testimony

Chapter 14

Connie had ended up walking to her car alone. Perhaps it was better that Mike did not accompany her, for they would soon be up against one another in court again.

The courtroom was filled to capacity; with reporters crawling all over themselves to cover whatever antics might occur in the courtroom. Judge Brown braced himself for the day's procedures.

Mike and Connie both took a glance at alternate juror Harry Maxwell, seated on the side of the jury box. He sat there as if he hadn't a care in the world. Earlier, they had requested to see the Judge to get Maxwell excused from the jury pool, but the Judge had made it clear that he was not up to listening to the attorneys' antics and would see them in chambers after court. So there sat Harry Maxwell for one more day.

There was no time to think about all that now as the court proceedings resumed.

The next witness Mike called was a middle -aged woman with short graying hair names Dorothy Lane. She was a criminalist from the crime lab, thoughtful and articulate.

Mike walked up to stand, "Good day, Ms. Lane," he smiled, "Would you describe for the members of this court the evidence you discovered, handled and categorized at the crime scene?"

Connie started to rise and when Mike saw that, he held his finger in the air in order to make a point.

"_And…_ I seemed to have asked you a compound sentence, Ms. Lane, haven't I?" he addressed to Ms. Lane, although he was looking at Connie, "and for that I apologize," he watched Connie take her seat before he continued, "I will restate my question…could you describe to the court the evidence you discovered at the crime scene?"

"I would be more than happy to," she said, "MY findings, as far as the blood is concerned, corroborates with what Detective Hyland testified to earlier. I had collected-

"Objection!" Connie spoke up before Mike could stop her. The gallery seemed to lean forward with glee, as reporters jotted down the first objection of the day.

"Detective Hyland had testified to quite a bit of information when he took the stand previously, "Connie declared, "Therefore I postulate that asking one witness to commentate on the veracity of another witness' testimony improperly invades the province of the jury to determine witness credibility and in the long run, is considered improper character evidence."

"Miss Rubirosa," the Judge said, "the jury, though intelligent individuals, probably do not appreciate over-extended statements. I, myself, lost you after _objection_."

It was obvious Connie was trying too hard now.

"I apologize, Your Honor," Connie stated, "I am merely saying that Ms. Lane's statement is too vague considering the scope of Detective Hyland's previous testimony."

The Judge nodded, "Now _that_ I can rule with a definite _sustained!"_

Miss Lane, the witness, was able to maintain her composure, despite the interruption, "I collected blood samplings from what appeared to be a pint or so of blood from the victim, just as Detective Hyland had stated."

"Fine, thank you," Mike said as he paced, "Did you _only_ collect blood samplings?"

"No, I also collected fiber and hair samplings."

"And?" Mike had stopped pacing, "What were your findings, Miss Lane?"

"Just as the name implies, Boston's_ Public_ Garden is a very public place, " Ms. Lane testified, "On any given day, you'll find thousands of people traipsing through the Garden and Swan Boats. Aside from some hair and fiber samplings that matched the victim's, we found some hair and fiber samplings belonging to Doug Merrick as well, nearby the deceased body."

Mike nodded.

"Now, Ms. Lane, " Mike said, "the hair and fiber samplings from Douglass Merrick has no time stamp, but if it was found very near the body of Tom Merrick, might we assume Doug Merrick possibly could have been with Tom Merrick on the night of the murder?"

"Objection!" Connie stood, "leading the witness."

"Really?" asked Mike, "And where would I be leading her to?"

Connie had learned her lesson and addressed her answer to the Judge.

"Mr. Cutter is intent on bringing the witness to _the land of_ _desired answer_." She pleaded to the Judge in all seriousness

The Judge guffawed, "Sustained."

Mike's bottom lip was trembling as he worked to hide a smile, "Since Miss Rubirosa is intent on blocking me from _the land of desired answer_, I have no further questions. Thank you, Ms. Lane."

Connie's turn was up and she stood and self-consciously pulled her jacket down, although it didn't need it, "Good afternoon, Ms. Lane. Now you say you collected a lot of hair and fiber samplings from the scene of the crime, most of it probably _not_ belonging to either of the Merrick brothers. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

Everyone turned towards Mike expecting an objection. No reaction.

"And you say that some of the hair and clothing samples matched that of the victim, Tom Merrick?" Connie asked.

"That's correct."

Connie turned back to Mike. He was writing on his legal pad, seemingly oblivious to the testimony.

"And of the other samplings, " Connie seemed to be impatient, "of which you said there were many, it didn't belong to anyone who could be identified."

"Yes."

Connie obviously was not mentioning the hair and fiber samplings belonging to Douglas Merrick. Heads turned to Mike again. He seemed to be looking down at his fingernails.

"And then there was the blood you collected," Connie said, "Did any of the blood from the crime scene match Doug Merrick's DNA?"

"No."

Connie looked at Mike as he fiddled with his tie. His inattentiveness began gnawing at her.

Turning back to the witness, she seemed to be speaking faster, "So, Ms Lane, your- testimony- is- that since- there'-s no blood matching- Doug- Merrick's- DNA, he- was -not- there- that- night?"

The witness wrinkled her face, "Excuse me? you're talking too fast."

Connie waited for Mike to object. Everyone whipped over to look at Mike, willing him, any second, to pop up. Instead, he had his head down, straightening a crease he had on his pants.

His inactivity in the proceedings was unlike him.

"Mr. Cutter," the Judge interjected, as judges sometimes do when they want to help an attorney out with the obvious, "Is there something you would like to say outloud ?"

"None that I can think of, Your Honor," spoke out Mike, "I am totally enthralled with the way Miss Rubirosa is handling the questioning of my witness, so I'd rather not interrupt her brilliant questioning. Miss Rubirosa is doing a fine job of leading the witness through _the land of mundane_."

Connie had to bite her lower lip to keep from a grin.

The Judge nodded stiffly, "Then continue, please, Miss Rubirosa."

"I am quite done with this witness…Thank you, Ms. Lane," Connie's voice was barely steady as she went back and took her seat.

At last Mike stood, "Redirect, Your Honor?"

When the Judge nodded, Mike proceeded, his voice somewhat thunderous, "So, Ms. Lane, again to reiterate, not one iota of hair, clothing or blood samples matched that of the young man who is on trial here for the murder of his brother?"

"As I had stated previously," she testified, "we found hair and clothing consistent with the defendant's."

"Thank you, Ms. Lane, again," said Mike politely, as he took his seat once more.

The Judge looked at both attorneys, "Well, the trial actually went smoothly today, despite all our travelings to different lands…"

There was a slight chuckle from the gallery. The judge then addressed Mike, "It is my understanding , Mr. Cutter, that your next witness will have testimony regarding the trust fund?"

Mike nodded, "That is correct, Your Honor."

"Court will then reconvene at ten tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day."

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It was nighttime at last and Connie was back in her tiny apartment.

She was laying in her bed in the darkness of her bedroom and suddenly a smile appeared on her lips as she recalled being at Fenway Park with Mike. She couldn't sleep. Getting up from her bed she went in the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she took a sip, she looked out her kitchen window.

Moonlight gilded down on her windowsill daisies, etching the blooms and serrated leaves with silver. Connie reached over touched the delicate leaves, admiring its loveliness while at the same time she thought about the kiss from Mike.

She tried to shake the feeling that she was actually mooning over Mike… like…like a lovesick schoolgirl.

But she couldn't help it, she wanted to recapture the kiss. It was like re-watching a film but only for the good parts. She turned over in her mind what had occurred that afternoon at Fenway Park from every angle, every look, every touch. The way his thumb brushed against her cheek. She lifted her hand to the exact spot where he had previously touched. She pictured the way his intense gaze had completely unsettle her. And then the kiss itself. She could almost feel the hot, searing feel of his mouth. This new intimacy with him felt as natural as the beat of her own heart.

As she stood daydreaming, the sound of her cellphone could be heard ringing from the dining room table.

Connie reluctantly walked over to pick up her phone. Usually a call this late at night could only mean one thing—bad news was headed her way. And the later in the night it was, the worst the news seemed to be. As she held the phone in her hand, two wishes came into her mind…one, that it was a wrong number, or two, it was Mike.

Then she wiped the last thought from her mind. She had been disappointed too many times when a call was not Mike. Still, there was faint hope when she quickly glanced at the screen and saw to her delight the ID name she had yearned for. And her pulse took a gigantic leap.

The name on the screen read: Mike.

_Steady, stay calm_, she told herself.

She cleared her throat, trying to get the nervousness out of her system as she shakily brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Connie? Hi, it's Mike." His voice almost sounded sensual in the solitude of the night.

Connie tried to slow the beating of her heart. She smiled to herself when she heard at the other end, Mike clearing _his _throat, indicating he was just as nervous as she was.

"Yes, Mike, did you call for a reason?"

"It's just…I…just … it's nice to hear your voice."

Connie shut her eyes for a second to let the feeling of bliss fill her mind.

"I'm so glad you called, too, Mike," she encouraged him.

"Really?" he seemed genuinely surprised, "I'm sorry if it's so late…"

"No, no! I was up anyways!" insisted Connie, smiling into the phone, wanting him to continue.

There was a pause.

"Say I-" Connie began.

"I was going-" Mike said at the same time. He then added, "Please Connie, you go first..."

"No, it wasn't important," insisted Connie, "After all you called me...what did you want to say?"

Connie could actually feel her heartbeat going faster now.

"Well…actually, Connie," he sounded hesitant, "there _is_ a reason I called…something happened an hour after court had been dismissed for the day, and I thought I should be the first to tell you…"

She knew Mike well enough to know when his voice sounded stressed over something. Dread was held captive in her mind. This was not a pleasure call after all.

"Connie?" he broke into her thoughts, "Are you there?"

"Uh, yes, go on, Mike."

She heard him take a deep breath and that made her worry even more.

"It's just that," began Mike awkwardly, "Juror number eight is…gone."

Connie's eyes darted questionably left and right in the small kitchen.

_ "_Gone?" Connie inquired, "What do you mean _gone_?"

"Dead."

"_Dead?"_ Connie was rendered speechless.

"Dead. She was run over by a vehicle earlier tonight."

Connie could not believe it. Now she wished this had been option one; that this had been a wrong number.

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	15. Chapter 15

The alternate juror

Chapter 15

It was the next day and Connie was in Middleton's smaller office, working on the case. She was on the phone with Detective Lee, who was working on the death of Gloria Marchetti, the eighth juror.

"Usually," Detective Lee was explaining, "we tend to view a pedestrian fatality as an accident. But according to my investigation, Miss Marchetti was run down in front of her home in a quiet, residential neighborhood by a car traveling at excessive speed."

"Any clue as to the identity of the driver?" Connie asked.

"Unfortunately the driver took off. Still, we are looking at this as a homicide."

"Oh?" asked Connie, "and why the certainty that this was _not_ an accident?"

"Due to the simple fact that she was up on the sidewalk when she got hit," the detective bluntly responded.

Connie's eyebrow went up, "So the driver of that car deliberately went after her…"

"The facts bear that out.."

Thank you, Detective Lee."

"Good day, Miss Rubirosa."

She hung up the phone and sat back. There _must _be a connection between Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror, and this latest victim, the eighth juror. But what could it be, she wondered, as she gnawed on the top of her pencil until she heard a familiar male voice from behind her.

"…whatever you do, Connie, don't chew the eraser off. It carries absolutely no nutritional value."

Startled, Connie turned around to see Mike standing at the doorway of the office. A familiar yearning seemed to quake inside of her, "Mike, hi."

Mike instantly felt a string of tight, warm knots in his chest when she said his name.

"I couldn't sleep last night due to the latest developments." Mike admitted as she gestured for him to sit down. He came in and sat across from her. It seemed rather strange seeing her behind the big desk with him as the visitor. He rather liked it.

Of course, if Mike were to be totally honest, he would have admitted he had a sleepless night because he had been thinking of her, not an issue of the case.

"I know what you mean," Connie was saying, "I was trying to figure out the possible connection between alternate juror Harry Maxwell and the deceased juror, Gloria Marchetti,"

The use of 'alternate juror' and 'juror'in one sentence got Mike to thinking.

"What do you think about this theory?" suggested Mike, "The juror, Gloria Marchetti, was killed because Harry Maxwell needed to get on that jury…" when Mike did not get a reaction from Connie, he added, "I know; it's rather farfetched…"

Connie leaned forward.

"No, no...that's a pretty good theory Mike, " Connie analyzed further, "Harry Maxwell could have wanted to get on that jury to sway them to vote a certain way. Think about it. Even as an alternate juror Maxwell had been made privy to all jury discussions and would have known which way Mrs. Marchetti was leaning towards in the case. Perhaps she was eliminated to make sure he had a vote on the jury."

"That's a rather drastic move," Mike commented.

"People have been known to kill for less," Connie pointed out.

"So it's been determined now," Mike jested, slightly changing the subject, "you are the more cynical one of us, after all."

Connie didn't skip a beat,"...or the one who thinks the more logically."

Mike gave an impish grin, "Would you care for a little drive? I just _happened_ to have juror number eight's address right here," he pulled out a piece of paper, "her husband would know whether or not she was more likely to vote guilty or not guilty."

Connie nodded, already grabbing for her jacket, "You want to drive?"

He tossed the keys in the air and in one fell swoop, caught it midair.

"Last one out has to turn off the lights," Mike said, looking pleased.

.

.

Gloria Marchetti, aka Juror number eight, lived in Boston's North End, home to Boston sizable Italian-American population. On the drive there, Mike had informed Connie of the fact that sadly, Gloria Marchetti and her husband had been newlyweds. By the time they had arrived at the Marchetti's modest row house, Gloria's husband and just finished making arrangements for the service and burial.

Opening the door, Mario Marchetti was a broad shouldered young man with a laborer's hands and large sad brown eyes. Mike and Connie identified themselves.

"We're sorry to intrude on you at such a sad time," Mike sympathized, "but you could perhaps shed some light on what happened to your wife."

He allowed them in and everyone sat down in the simply furnished living room.

"I read newspapers and I know who you are," Marchetti spoke with an Italian accent, "But you are opposite sides of case, no?"

"What you say is true, Mr. Marchetti," Mike stated, "but we are both seeking the truth as to what happened to your lovely wife."

Mr. Marchetti's eyes began to moistened, "I miss her so."

"We are truly sorry for what had happened, " Connie consoled, "I didn't know your wife personally, but I liked her during jury selection. She was bright and articulate. I knew that she would've made a fine and fair juror."

He wiped his cheek with his hand, "What does it matter now? My beautiful Gloria is gone! Maybe if she not on jury, she still be alive today!"

Mike tilted his head, "Do you think, Mr. Marchetti, that her death had something to do with being a juror?"

Mario looked slowly at both of them, "All I can tell you is that she was alive before the trial started…and now I must prepare her for her burial."

The image was too sad for words.

"Mr. Marchetti," Mike's voice was gentle, "We can't express to you how sorry we are, and we want to leave you with your private grieving…so we just need to know the answer to this one question; did you have any indication how wife was leaning as a juror?"

Mario's expression changed to one of indignation," Is that why you are here?" he huffed, "for your_ case_?"

Connie leaned forward to make her point.

"Mr. Marchetti, we are asking you this question to see if her murder was somehow connected to her serving as a juror," countered Connie, quickly and gently, " If it wasn't an accident, steps must be taken to get to the bottom of this and find out who is responsible."

For a second, Mario was silent as he absorbed the words.

"They tell me..."he stated slowly, "jurors not to talk about the case with anybody, not even to family, no?"

"You are absolutely right," agreed Mike, "but these jurors had not been sequestered and we also know it is human nature to talk about the case among spouses."

"And whatever you tell us," Connie assured him, "will be off the record."

Mario looked at both of them and it took some time before he responded, "Hmmm...I think...she did talk case to me."

Mike and Connie exchanged hopeful glances.

"Please continue, Mr. Marchetti" Connie encouraged.

"Okay...I tell you, for what it matter now? Judge cannot do nothing to her..." he said bitterly, "My Gloria tell me, "No, Merrick not do it. She think he such nice -looking, polite man. How he kill his own brother? she ask. But me? I think different."

Mike and Connie thanked Mr. Marchetti and stood to leave. They had the answer they needed.

.

.

As they sat in the rental car, Mike and Connie exchanged ideas.

"So Ms. Marchetti was leaning in favor of an acquittal," Connie stated.

"_So_ if our theory is right, " stated Mike, "Harry Maxwell needed to get on that jury to vote Merrick guilty and perhaps sway other jurors. The question is _why_?"

Connie looked his way, "why, indeed?"

"The more we delve into it, the more questions we seem to have instead of answers," Mike stated.

"Well, I say we delve more and start _answering_ those questions…together" Connie said, knowing she was enjoying working the case with Mike too much.

"Exactly!" he agreed, with a touch of amusement in his voice.

.

.

Their next stop was to visit Gina Beaumont. She was the woman who accused Douglas Merrick of raping her two years ago. With Mike behind the wheel of the rented Audi, they drove along the Charles River on Storrow Drive. It was a picturesque view where they crossed the river at the Charles River Dam.

"Connie, did you follow the news account of the rape attempt by Merrick?"

"_Alleged _attempt," corrected Connie, "and of course I read up on it. Seems there was a lot of controversy over her name being made public, wasn't there?"

"Yes, I read that, too," Mike said, "Evidently it had been a pretty big story here in Boston because of the Merrick name attached to it. The charges were eventually dropped."

"Of course they were," Connie said, "Doug would be incapable of something like that!"

"I suppose we will agree to disagree," said Mike calmly, not wanting to get into a disagreement at this point with her.

He turned on Somerville Avenue and they finally arrived in front of a pretty two- story house on Walnut Street. Both he and Connie got out and went to one of two front doors. Connie checked the names over the buzzers and Gina Beaumont lived in the right-hand unit.

It took a few minutes for Ms. Beaumont to answer the door. She wore denim shorts, a red t-shirt and was barefoot. Her tan was perfect, as though she's just returned from a tropical vacation.

Mike and Connie exchanged glances. It wasn't due to Ms. Beaumont's attractiveness that caught their eye. It was that she was the same pretty woman they had seen in photographs at Cynthia Morgan's home the day of her murder.

"Yeah?" she asked. She did not ask them in.

Mike and Connie introduced themselves as attorneys working on the Merrick murder case. Her large brown eyes opened wide.

"I don't have to talk to either one of you!" she abruptly announced.

"I would think you would want to know what had happened to your friend, Cynthia."

This time her incredulous expression seemed planned, "Who? M-my friend, Cynthia?"

"We were inside Cynthia's house; in fact we were the ones who found her body, Miss Beaumont," Connie explained, "and when we were in there, we saw pictures of you with her."

She looked blank as she held onto the door, "So?"

"So," responded Mike, "we're here because we were wondering why Douglas Merrick would have attempted to rape his girlfriend's good friend."

This time Gina looked perturbed, "Look, I dropped those charges!"

"Yes, you did," agreed Connie, "and I'm sure you had good reason. But you also must have known that simply by charging Doug with rape, you caused a violation of the trust fund of which he was a beneficiary."

"I have nothing else to say!" she started to shut the door.

Mike stopped the movement by holding out his arm.

"Just one more question, Miss Beaumont," he said, "Do you know a Harry Maxwell?"

Gina Beaumont tried to hide it, but she had such a strong reaction, it was as if a stake had been driven in her heart.

Then she slammed the door in their faces.

Mike and Connie looked at one another and shrugged. They could do nothing but go back to the car.

"I get the feeling we weren't very welcomed," Connie stated as they sat in the car.

"I would say that's an understatement, Connie."

She smiled, "She definitely figures into all of this."

"Well, let's say we stay here awhile to see if she goes anywhere," Mike suggested. He reached into the backseat and retrieved his briefcase, "in the meantime, I've clipped some articles out about the case. It makes for interesting read."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically as reached out for some of the papers, "This is how I love to spend my afternoons, crunched up in a car, reading files."

They sat in comfortable silence, reading newspaper articles about the Merrick family and/or the case.

Twenty minutes had gone by. At one point, Connie was getting a creak in her neck and tried to stretch out when she saw something outside the car window.

"Mike!" Connie declared, "heads up!"

Mike glanced out the windshield.

"Would you look at that!" Mike exclaimed.

A red Mustang convertible had pulled up in front of Ms. Beaumont's residence. With the car's top down, they could easily make out the identity of Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror, behind the wheel.

Maxwell beeped the horn. Moments later, Gina Beaumont, girlfriend of murdered victim Cynthia Morgan appeared, suitcase in hand, rushed to Maxwell's waiting car and they were gone.

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	16. Chapter 16

A realization

Chapter 16

Mike and Connie had gone over to police headquarters in Boston to see Detective Lee in person. They felt they needed to stop Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror, and Gloria Marchetti, the alleged rape victim, from skipping town.

"I can have units on the lookout for those two, but that's about it." Detective Lee stated.

"Could you check all train stations, airports and bus depots, too?" Connie asked, anxious that these two could get away.

"No can do," Detective Lee regretfully shook his head, " especially since, as of this moment, they are not murder suspects. We don't have the manpower to go all out in search of people merely because they are considered persons of interest. Besides, even if we locate them, we couldn't hold them very long at the station."

"That's not the kind of news I like to hear," Connie said, sounding disheartened.

"Well, that may be, but I do have something that might be of interest to you," the detective said, as he got out a file and opened it, "When you mentioned alternate juror Harry Maxwell's name, I did a little investigation on him. Seems Maxwell has a reputation as a big time gambler; he was a fixture in Las Vegas, especially at the Wynn Hotel. And the way I hear it, he usually came out on the losing end. Big time."

"That tidbit is certainly worth exploring," Mike acknowledged.

"It also makes me wonder..." added Connie, "…how could someone who obviously gambles away so much money in casinos come up with ten _thousand_ dollars to give to Cynthia Morgan?"

"And _that,_ " Detective Lee determined, "is the ten thousand dollar question!"

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Mike and Connie were now sitting in his rental car.

"Where to now?" Mike asked.

Just then Connie's cellphone rang. She looked at the ID name on the screen, "Sorry, Mike," she regretfully stated, "It's work related."

Mike pretended to be hurt when he looked at his BlackBerry and showed her his blank screen," Hey, there's no work call coming in for me!" he jested.

She had a smile on her face as she answered her phone, "Rubirosa here."

"Miss Rubirosa, it's Middleton, " James Middleton said, "just wanted to let you know that our handwriting expert, who examined Cynthia Morgan's signature on that letter she wrote disavowing being with Merrick, just came back with his findings."

"And?" Connie said as she glanced at Mike. He was fumbling with some of his files, pretending to be occupied.

"The expert verifies that it's Cynthia Morgan's signature," Middleton was saying with a defeated sigh.

"Oh, hmmm," Connie tried not to react in front of Mike, "Then we don't use him," she decided, "but uh, … I'm…rather occupied now, Could I call you later?...yes, okay…bye…"

After she hung up, Mike asked, "Is everything alright with the case?"

Connie knew better than to talk about the case with her courtroom adversary.

"Of course, couldn't be better!" Connie assured him, although she was unable to look directly at him.

Mike grinned triumphantly, "The signature on the letter was proven authentic, wasn't it?"

"You listened in on a private conversation!" she accused him, though not in a terse tone.

"Not really…" Mike revealed, "While you were I the phone, I received a text from Josh telling me that our handwriting expert verified it was Cynthia Morgan's signature on that note, so I figured that was what your call was about."

"Well, the truth will come out anyway," admitted Connie, "So now both of us have received identical news."

"Except unlike you," Mike's voice was half-mocking, "_our_ expert will be testifying in court!"

Connie could have been upset, but somehow she found it rather amusing the way he worded it.

"Oh, just go and rub it in, Mike!" Connie pretended to be exasperated, "I don't even know why I am here with you!"

She had meant for it to be in a teasing way, but Mike was looking at her strangely. Right now he was taking in her lovely oval face, the gently sensual mouth, high cheekbones and haunting brown eyes, a brown so rich it was like deep coffee.

"Sometimes I wonder why you would ever want to be with me, too," he admitted.

The somewhat questioning tone in his voice made Connie take notice as their gazes locked.

Mike had forgotten that they were sitting in the quietness of his vehicle. Images of their last embrace shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

Connie had been thinking along the same line but she tried to keep the conversation light, "I can't answer for you, but you're definitely not my guardian angel, especially in court,Mike."

He grinned as if he knew she was trying to lighten the situation. His roguish smile was dazzling, nearly causing her heart to stop.

Although they were the only two occupants in the car, Mike leaned in and with a very low, almost sensual voice stated, "You're right…I don't think being angelic is one of my more obvious traits."

"...or even one of your hidden traits," she concurred as he broke out in a big grin.

Though they were enjoying one another's company, it was time to get back to work.

"So where to now, Connie?" he asked.

Connie took a deep breath in, "I think we should try to find if there is a connection between Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror, and Thomas Merrick, the murdered victim."

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They drove back to the Boston Penitentiary, a minimum-security correctional facility, located an hour away from Boston. They were there to see Doug Merrick. Ironically, Doug, the accused, would be the one most likely to help them.

Mike parked the rented vehicle in the prison's parking lot and turned off the engine. He figured Connie would want to talk to her own client, and might even want some personal time with him.

He cleared his throat before announcing, "I'll wait out here while you go inside, Connie. I have some reading I need to catch up on anyways, so you just take your time," he pretended to be busy, shuffling the papers in his files around.

Even though his head was down, he could feel Connie giving him one of those long, searching stares that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He slowly looked over her way, wondering what she could be thinking. She had that way of seeing right through him, as if she could read his thoughts in spite of his will to conceal them.

"I'd like you to come in with me when I interrogate Doug," Connie stated quietly.

Mike tried to hide his surprise, "You… want me to come with you to interview Merrick?"

"It's _our_ case, isn't it?" Connie reasoned, this time with a smile.

"...except we're on opposing sides, Connie," reminded Mike.

"Not when it comes to finding out the truth," she pointed out

So it was decided.

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Mike and Connie sat behind the glass partition and looked in the direction of the door as it opened.

Inside the prison walls, Doug had been informed that he had visitors. Thinking one of the visitors to be Connie, he assumed the other one would have to be Middleton. Doug had a big smile plastered on his face as he strolled in the visitation room.

His smile completely disappeared when he saw who was sitting next to Connie.

He looked distastefully in Mike's direction before addressing Connie.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Doug asked sharply, as he sat down and stubbornly crossed his arms.

"You remember Mr. Cutter, Doug," Connie ignored the rudeness, "We have a few questions regarding the case."

Doug Merrick uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, "_We_? What is that suppose to mean?" He again looked over at Mike, "Why is he here? He's the guy that's trying to convict me of murder!"

That was all Mike needed to hear.

"Okay, I heard enough," Mike said, as he started to get up.

Connie reached out and held onto Mike's arm, "Wait, no Mike…stay."

The gesture of Connie reaching out to Mike was not lost of Doug.

"So I was not too far off after all," said Doug, looking from one to the other, the implication pretty clear.

Connie leaned in closer, "Doug, this is not a personal call. We need some information in order to find the truth in this case. If you don't want to help us that's fine and we'll just leave."

Doug relented, "Okay...what do you want to know?"

"Do you happen to know if your brother, Tom, was into gambling?" Connie asked.

Doug smiled in a way that looked like a sneer, "It;s one of our many hush-hush 'Merrick secrets'. Tom always kept it on the down low, but yeah…in fact, yes, he was a compulsive gambler."

Mike and Connie exchanged glances. They were on to something.

"Where did Tom usually do his gambling?"

"He was one of the original investors of the Wynn Hotel in Vegas," Doug explained, "so he was always given the five star treatment when he gambled there. Why?"

They recalled Detective Lee's words:. _Seems Maxwell has a reputation as a big time gambler; he was a fixture in Las Vegas, especially at the Wynn Hotel._

Mike and Connie didn't say it outloud, but they now knew how Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror, could have met Tom Merrick, the murdered victim.

Connie turned to Mike, "I think we have enough to bring Maxwell and Beaumont in as material witnesses."

Mike nodded, " I agree…I'll make the call to the detective now," he said standing up. Connie turned and watched as Mike took out his BlackBerry, turned and walked away, slamming the door shut behind him. Doug and Connie were now alone.

She turned back around and saw Doug staring at her, a funny look on his face. Her cheeks colored at the thought that Doug had witnessed her watching Mike's every step.

"If you're wondering who Maxwell and Beaumont are, " Connie said, trying to cover up her embarrassment, "it'll all be made clear when we go to court this afternoon."

Doug remained sitting stiffly and staring uncomfortably at Connie.

At last he leaned in, "That wasn't what I was thinking, Connie."

Connie's cheeks were probably bright red as she attempted to change the subject, "I am doing everything I can to find other suspects for your brother's murder."

"That I know," Doug said, "But it's _him_, isn't it?"

"_Him?_" Her voice sounded unnaturally high.

Doug nudged his head towards the door that Mike had just exited, "HIm. The lawyer. That's why I never stood a chance."

Connie cleared her throat and tried to sound convincing, "Mr. Cutter doesn't figure into anything,Doug."

"You may be convincing in court," Doug stated, "but here, you're an awful liar, Connie. Believe me. It's _him._"

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After leaving Doug, Connie walked out into the plainly painted corridor. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adapt to the lack of light.

From the other end of the hallway, she saw that Mike was leaning against the wall, reading his BlackBerry. As he viewed his screen, he looked so casually…attractive. She felt an exciting leap of sensation at the sight of him.

It had always seemed that way when she saw him, but this was the first time she could admit it to herself. Just being at the same place with him was enough to brighten even the dreariest of days for her. And she knew the feelings were mutual.

The kiss proved it.

As if he sensed her presence. Mike knowingly turned in her direction. He slowly lowered his Blackberry, as all his attention was now diverted to her.

Connie's pulse raced with each step that she took towards him. To her, the length of the passageway seemed a mile long as her clacking heels was the only sound that could be heard in the hallway. Reaching him, she found herself staring into the clear blue softness of his eyes as her heart thumped wildly in violent, uneven beats.

And it was all because of_ him._

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_Please review._


	17. Chapter 17

A break from the case

Chapter 17

Connie's eyes seemed to spark at Mike's presence.

Mike gripped the file he had been holding tighter than was necessary. The air in the hallway was throbbing with some unexpected sensation. Mike's senses quickened, and he needed to say something, anything to dispel the tension.

"Did you have a nice chat with Merrick?" Mike asked, trying to not show disdain when he said Merrick's name, for he certainly didn't want to show her that he felt any emotion resembling jealousy.

"I just made it clear to him where we stood," Connie responded.

_Where we stood?_ Mike knew her comment could be taken many ways. He wanted to ask her, but refrained from it. There was a time and place for everything, but this was not the time nor place. Best he change the subject.

"Perhaps we should continue following the money trail." he suggested, and then added hesitantly, "...together..."

He hoped they would continue to be an investigative team together. Even if it meant he had to continually suppress the yearnings he had for her.

Connie's response was to take a deep breath in. She was still fighting how her body seemed to pulse in reaction to his presence, but at least they were back to discussing the case.

"Of course," Connie agreed, "And the sooner we find the answers, the sooner Doug could be released."

"…or found guilty," Mike reminded her of the alternative.

Things were truly getting back to normal, yet it felt different.

She surveyed him with unnerving intensity, "I see we are warming up for our go- around in court again."

Mike smiled. He had always enjoyed when they challenged one another, but it seemed to be at a whole new level lately ever since their intimate contact at Fenway Park.

"But I should warn you..." Mike pretended to act serious, "it's best you not argue with me in the courtroom this next go around in court, Connie. "

Connie raised an eyebrow, "And why is that, Mike?"

"If you dare to challenge me," he warned, trying to keep straight face, "I swear I will drag you down to my level and then _beat you _with my experience!"

Connie couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. She truly understood and appreciated the Cutter sense of humor.

"Really? Well, I also have a piece of advice you need to keep near and dear to your heart," she stated, in all seriousness.

"I can't wait to hear it," Mike said drolly.

"Standing in a courtroom does not make you a winner, any more than standing in a garage makes you a car," she sagely quipped.

Now it was Mike's turn to laugh.

"I'll try and keep that in mind," he said while sneaking in a quiet _va-rooom!_ under his breath.

Connie couldn't quite hide the smile. Their jesting seemed to alleviate any nervousness they felt facing each other in court.

Mike checked his watch, "I think the courthouse fireworks are just about to start. Hope you're ready to face the sleek race car in court!"

Connie was more than up for the challenge.

"Oh, don't worry, Mike, I'm ready," her eyes leveled with his.

"Then, see you in court, Connie."

_See you in court, Connie. _He had stated those exact same words the first time they went up against one another, but this time the tone was different. This time around it was much more amiable with a dash of intimacy thrown in.

Not that the opposing attorneys planned to let up on one another at all.

Connie returned his smile with one of her own, "Yes, see you in court, Mike."

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Court was in session as Judge Brown entered the courtroom.

Everyone stood until he had taken his seat behind the bench, and announced that The People of Massachusetts versus Douglas Merrick was in session.

Douglas sat placidly, or rather numbly in his seat.

Mike stood up and called James Middleton to the stand. Middleton seemed none too pleased to be called up for the prosecution side. But Mike needed him to set the foundation for the added clause in the trust fund.

"Good day, Mr, Middleton. Could you state your involvement in this murder case?"

Connie immediately stood up.

But the Judge intercepted the early interruption, "So soon, Miss Rubirosa? You haven't even had a chance to warm up your seat yet. "

"Your Honor," stated Connie in all seriousness, "The use of 'murder' is highly prejudicial."

"Really?" Mike feigned surprised, "What term _should_ I use? _Rubbed- out_?"

The gallery was already smiling, enjoying the show. The Judge had to agree that Connie had a point.

"Sustained."

After the rewording, Mike's questions then led Middleton to testify that he was the trust attorney who had set up the Merrick trust fund. And unfortunately Middleton's explanation of the added conditional clause of the contract made for pretty dry testimony. Mike feared he was putting the jurors asleep, but discussing terms and conditions of a contract was absolutely necessary.

Luckily the boring testimony was eventually broken up by the entertaining interplay between Mike and Connie. During one point in Mike's droning questioning of Middleton, Connie stood up.

"Objection!…argumentative," Connie had declared regarding the testimony.

Mike had an immediate reaction, "Mr. Middleton had stated a fact, Your Honor. Only an opinion is argumentative. "

"Your Honor," Connie countered,"Mr. Middleton had stated previously that the trustee has legal title to the trust, and that the beneficiaries have equitable ownership, therefore, Tom Merrick should not have legal grounds to add a clause without approval from his brother, Douglas Merrick."

Miketook a deep breath in. If she were going to bombard the bored jurors with tedious arguments, he could easily do the same!

"Having legal grounds is precisely the point I am making with my witness, Your Honor," Mike responded, "the power of individual beneficiaries of the trust were not clearly identified, therefore no equitable ownership can be established. As Mr. Middleton pointed out, the trust was vaguely worded as to the precise extent of power. At the end of it all, Tom Merrick had been chosen as sole trustee of the trust. I would, therefore, like to personally thank Miss Rubirosa for her help in clarifying this point."

Connie looked indignant, but determined, "You're welcome, Mr. Cutter, except for the fact that Mr. Middleton clearly stated that Tom Merrick is the main trustee in relation to Merrick Senior's _probate estate_. I do not have any doubt that Mr. Middleton, the Merricks' lawyer on retainer, will testify that the money aspect of the trust should be determined by all listed beneficiaries, thereby making the added clause invalid."

"I object," Mike said.

"I object to your objection," Connie stated.

They gave each other challenging glares.

The Judge sighed, "Perhaps I should rule according to which side used the greatest number of words!"

"Sorry, your Honor," Mike looked contrite.

"I apologize, Your Honor, " Connie remained standing, "Go ahead, Mr. Cutter. I'm sure your witness will testify to what I had previously stated."

"Oh? So, now you're telling us what Mr. Middleton _will_ testify to?" Mike asked," And when did the defense counsel become psychic?"

Connie faced the Judge, "I ask that Your Honor instructs jurors to disregard his irrelevant question!"

"I'm going to disregard everything if you two do not move it along!" the Judge warned.

No other headway by either side had been made with Mr. Middleton as he stepped off the stand, although the reporters out in the gallery looked more than pleased.

Mike then called his next witness.

Navjot Patel, the handwriting expert, took the stand.

Under Mike's intense questioning, Patel stated that there were sixteen factors to determine whether a signature is authentic. A graphologist like himself takes in account such graphic factors such as slant, spacing and letter size, angularity and curvature as well as non-graphic features such as the pressure of the upward and downward strokes.

Mike introduced to the courtroom Cynthia Morgan's note, in which was stated she had not been with Douglas Merrick at the time of Tom Merrick's murder.

"And after viewing Cynthia Morgan's signature on her note here, Mr. Patel, " Mike asked, "would you say that is Miss Morgan's signature?"

Connie stood, "Objection. Leading the witness."

Mike heaved a sigh of impatience, "I will reword...Mr. Patel, what is your expert conclusion regarding Cynthia Morgan's signature on this note?"

"My expert opinion is that Miss Morgan signed that document," Patel confidently stated.

Mike then showed the note to the jurors. The jurors read the note and carefully passed it among themselves. Connie could see they had acknowledged the note as authentic.

It was now Connie's turn. She walked over to the stand and greeted him with a half-smile.

"Hello, Mr. Patel," greeted Connie, "Graphology is not a science, correct?"

Patel looked none too please that she was attacking his profession, "I am _proud_ to state that I have testified in courtroom cases as to a signature's authenticity on a document well over 50 times!"

"Witness is non responsive," Connie looked to the Judge.

"Answer the question, Mr. Patel." The Judge said, "is graphology a science or not?"

Mr. Patel looked nonplussed, "Not officially."

"And the number of times you have testified in court previously does not make it a science, either, does it?" Connie asked.

"Objection!" Mike stated, "Move to strike, argumentative."

"I have the right to question the validity of Mr. Patel's credentials," Connie insisted to the Judge, "Mr. Cutter is obviously reaching for an excuse to pull an argument out of his bag of objections."

"My..._bag_ of objections?" Mike looked indignant, "Your Honor…"

The Judge pounded his gavel and looked at Connie, "Overruled and Overwhelmed. The first part refers to you, Miss Rubirosa, the second part refers to me."

Connie turned back to Mr. Patel, "Mr. Patel, can you come up with some evidence to support your claim that graphology is a science besides your word?"

"Your Honor, Did you not just rule on that question?" Mike shot up.

Judge Brown sighed and waved Mike and Connie up, "Counselors…take eight giant steps forward and approach the bench!"

Meanwhile, reporters were having a field day.

The Judge covered the microphone as he spoke to the two attorneys.

"_What the hell is going on here_?" he whispered, "_It's taking an hour to get a witness to say one line!"_

"_I apologize again, Your Honor_," stated Connie, also keeping her voice low, "_But a graphologist's testimony is not admissible in a court of law. In State vs. Davis, it held that graphology is not a science since its results are not verifiable."_

",,,_that is in reference to handwriting experts who testify about a person's physical or mental condition when determining the validity of a signature_," Mike retaliated insistently, "But i_n Daniels vs. Cummins, a handwriting expert is held competent to testify that a signature is genuine. Miss Rubirosa is not the only one who has done her homework!"_

"He's got you there, Miss Rubirosa," the Judge said, "Mr. Patel will be considered an expert witness and his testimony stays in…now go back and play nice with the others!"

As they turned to walk back, Connie leaned in and whispered to Mike, "_Stop being all over the place with your questions, Mike! You're like a roller coaster and I feel like throwing up!"_

The corners of his mouth was slightly upturned.

"_Alright Miss Rubirosa..._Mike responded, "_I'll do that when you stop with the argumentative badgering of my witnessness_..._if you were the internet, the Judge would label you as spam!_" he shot back. Connie had to force herself not to smile.

After they separated and returned back to their respective tables, the Judge made an announcement.

"Perhaps this is a good place to break," the Judge said, "I'm sure Mr. Cutter's and Miss Rubirosa's vocal cords would certainly agree. This court will reconvene tomorrow at two."

The gavel came down for the last time that day.

The people in the gallery cleared the courtroom, once again satisfied with today's 'entertainment'.

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Please review


	18. Chapter 18

A win-win situation

Chapter 18

Even though the courtroom had been cleared for the day, Mike and Connie elected to stay awhile inside the courtroom in order to avoid all media camped outside. Connie was still putting her papers in the briefcase when Mike walked over to her.

"Thank god there was an early dismissal," Mike commented, "Just so you know… when we were doing the contracts testimony with Middleton, I was falling asleep with my _own_ line of questioning. In fact, your objections were the only thing keeping me awake."

"I know what you mean," agreed Connie, "I was getting a bit glassy-eyed myself. I had already determined that I would object every time you said the word 'trustee'. "

Mike smiled at that one, thinking every minute spent conversing with Connie was like heaven.

"You did well with your cross examination of the handwriting expert," Mike admitted, "You almost had _me_ convinced that his testimony was not valid!"

"Thanks," she acknowledged appreciatively, "However, I don't think my cross-examination of Patel will do anything to sway the jurors my way either. I may give you a point on that one. "

"Well, I don't think I got the better of you today in court," commented Mike, "although it's still on the top of my list for tomorrow!"

"Be assured that I can take anything you can dish out," Connie claimed and then added, "but I'm blaming _you_ if I get on the bad side of the Judge again. I don't need another contempt fine."

"Hey, it's not MY fault the Judge was overruling your objections!" said Mike innocently.

"I didn't say it was your fault, Mike" she stated with a straight face, though her eyes sparkled mischievously, "I just said I was blaming you."

Mike laughed, glad she was in such a good mood after a morning of grueling testimonies.

"Speaking of lunch," suggested Mike even though no one mentioned the word, "How about a quick one? We could discuss the investigating we still need to do." He added the last part quickly.

Connie didn't know why, but she felt a prickling blush rise to her cheeks at his simple invitation. She had certainly shared many meals with him in the past. Why should this one be different? Was it because they were out of New York? or that they were not working on the same side of the case? or was it because it sounded more like a date?

At this point it didn't matter. The sides of Connie mouth curved upward, "I think that is doable…"

Mike looked pleased, "Great…Any suggestions?"

" I know of a perfect spot," Connie decided, "there is this quaint cafe across the way from the Public Garden. It's has a nice, open patio, and yet we'll be able to talk in privacy."

Mike didn't think the day could get any better, but it just did, "Sounds great...Let's go," he readily agreed.

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It was bright and sunny when they sat in the outdoor patio of the Parish Café. As they viewed the menus together, Mike couldn't believe his good fortune that Connie was sitting across from him. Looking at her now, he was recalling that kiss and how her soft mouth burned into his.

She looked up from her menu to see him giving her a long, measuring stare, "Any idea as to what you will order, Mike?"

Her question snapped him out of his private revelry, "Uh," he quickly diverted his attention to the menu in front of him, "This vegan Philly sandwich with seitan, grilled onions and mozzarella looks great," he announced.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Connie stated, "I think I'm going to order the flank steak sandwich with Portobello mushrooms."

After their orders had been taken, they sat back, both feeling relaxed, despite being in the middle of a murder trial.

"I was impressed by your argument about graphology being a science," Connie admitted "although we both know it isn't. That and all your unnecessary objection probably confused the jurors. Sometimes, Mike, you don't play fair."

"_I_ don't play fair?" Mike pondered, "Hello? Have we ever prosecuted a case together? I _seldom_ play fair! I've learned early in life that it's much easier for me to cheat!"

"Okay, I'll give you that," Connie knew he was jesting, then deciding to get more serious she asked, "so how do you think the murdered brother, Tom Merrick, might have arranged for Gina Beaumont to bring a false charge of rape against Doug?"

"Like I've been saying all along; the answer is _money_," Mike surmised, "Tom Merrick probably paid her. That would also mean that Tom Merrick knew Gina well enough to offer her the money, although there is no evidence that the two even knew each other."

Connie shook his head almost sadly, "All I can say," she observed, "is that the bodies are piling up."

"Unfortunately, you're right," Mike agreed, "and it doesn't solve Tom Merrick's murder; and by extension, Doug's girlfriend's, Cynthia Morgan, and juror number eight's, murder, either."

There was a slight interruption to the flow of their conversation as the waiter placed drinks and sandwiches before them. Alone once again, they each took a bite of their lunch, savoring their lunches.

"Allow me to create a scenario of possibilities for this case?" Mike broke the silence.

Connie took another bite, intrigued, "be my guest, Mike."

"Let's go back to the beginning of all this…Let's say… " Mike began, "that Harry Maxwell, the alternate juror with the gambling problem, could not pay his betting debts at Vegas. Then one day he inadvertently meets Tom Merrick at the Wynn casino."

She nodded, "Go on."

"And so rolling-in-the-dough Tom Merrick offers down-and-out Harry a way out of his money problems."

"You mean, " Connie began, picking up where Mike left off, "Tom Merrick suggested that if Harry Maxwell could arrange for someone to charge Doug with rape, Tom would forgive the debt?"

"Precisely," Mike said, taking a sip of his drink, "thereby, making it a win-win situation for them. With Douglas Merrick guilty of immoral turpitude, Tom would inherit the entire trust fund and Harry would be debt-free."

"Makes sense, Mike."

"I think so, too… AND we know that both accuser Gina Beaumont and Douglas' girlfriend Cynthia Morgan were paid $10,000 each. Perhaps Tom Merrick was the one who paid them off, probably by way of Harry Maxwell."

"But that would mean Cynthia had sold her boyfriend Doug down the river," Connie pointed out.

Mike shrugged.

"We had verified that Cynthia's suicide note had been signed by her, right?" asked Mike contemplatively, "Originally she was going to testify _for _her boyfriend, but all that changed when she was offered money to say she was _not _with him, thus destroying his alibi for Tom's murder."

"So now you're saying Doug is innocent," Connie proposed.

"Not at all," responded Mike, "He's guilty alright. I'm just saying there was a _betrayal of a loved one __for money._Tragic, when you think about it. Personally, I would never betray someone that way if I loved her."

Mike didn't mean to let that last part slip. He gave a somewhat awkward smile. It was the same awkward smile Connie gave when she had hastily told Mike not to worry about women's obsession with men who wore uniforms, for _she_ had outgrown that notion by the time she was ten.

Meanwhile, Connie looked slightly dazed that Mike would admit outloud such personal thoughts. He always seemed very guarded with his feelings, especially when he was around her.

"I really don't even know what I am saying," Mike said, as he cleared his throat, "must be my drink is making my mind go woozy."

"You're drinking iced tea," Connie pointed out.

"No kidding? Really?" Mike stared at his drink with a look of surprise.

Connie laughed at his reaction.

Afterwards, she found herself gazing at him, exploring the bold contours of his face, wishing she could reach out and feel them with her fingertips. Right now he had a belated blush lingering on his face and the brackets around his mouth had softened, making him look handsome and vulnerable at the same time.

"Perhaps you should get drunk on tea leaves more often," Connie teased, "use some of this nonsensical talking when you go up against me in the courtroom. Oh wait...you already _are_ using nonsensical comments in court..."

"Oh,_really_ now?" Mike injected,with a grin, "Just remember one thing…when it comes to the final jury decision, it's not really about who is right and who is wrong... the winner is the side that can tell the best story!"

"With logic like that, how can I ever win in court?" she amusingly shook her head as their plates were removed from their table. She was enjoying her time with him more than she should.

"I know what you're thinking...you're thinking, 'where did Mike get this kind of thinking?'", "Mike quipped, "I, too, used to lie awake at night and think,'Where did I go wrong?" and eventually a voice responded back , 'it's going to take more than one night."

Connie laughed. Everything just seemed bright, happier when she was with Mike.

He liked the happiness that burst forth from Connie. It pleased him to no end. But, the afternoon was slipping away from them.

It was Connie who spoke up first.

"Perhaps you'd like to take another run at the murder scene?" she suggested, as she pointed, "It's just across the way..."

Mike nodded. He would have gone to hell and back to be with her, "Sure."

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Located in the heart of Boston's picturesque Public Garden the Swan Boats were surrounded by tourists and residents alike, who wanted to relax and enjoy the scenery while meandering along the peaceful lagoon.

Along with the fiberglass swans for which the boats were named, real ducks swam in the water, while tulips, daffodils and wild flowers dotted the water's edge. Weeping willows swept around the entire pond as the sunlight glistened on the surface of the water.

As they continued strolling, both no longer wanted to think that this was the scene of a grisly murder.

"Look up ahead," Mike pointed, "it looks like a miniaturized bridge."

"It's actually known as the smallest known suspension bridge in the world," Connie explained.

The bridge acted as a walking path for tourists and locals enjoying the gardens to easily cross the picturesque lagoon. It looked much like a mini version of the Golden Gate Bridge with its cables linked to vertical structures, which supported the weight of the deck. It added a sense of grandeur to the beauty of the landmark gardens.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Mike gave her a chiding smile, "Shall we go across ye olde bridge?"

Connie looked across. She had wanted to cross the first time she saw it, but she didn't have a reason to. Until now.

"I thought you'd never ask!" was Connie's reply.

As they walked towards the bridge, they had a beautiful view of the pond. Mike and Connie strolled on the bridge, accepting the quiet picturesque scenery. From down below, mallard ducks and occasional swans teemed the waters, every once in a while plunging their head into the depths below so their tail feather pivoted towards the sky. Swan boats cycled the pond, gliding quietly through the waters.

All thoughts of this area being a scene of a murder had vanished.

The green and flowering paradise in the middle of the bustling metropolis seemed to provide a private haven for the two overworked attorneys. They had stopped midway on the bridge to look down, appreciating the clear blue waters.

Amidst the quietude, they suddenly became aware of being alone with each other. As they both turned to gaze at one another, the silence between them had become thick.

Without being aware of it, Mike moved closer to her and now stood within an arm's length of her. Connie's reaction was that her gaze flickered to his mouth, thinking it appeared so masculine, so sensual.

It was like two magnets being drawn together.

"Mike," she uttered his name softly, "I don't know what is happening..."

"Don't you?" his eyes seemed to bore into her soul, "I haven't forgotten…that day at Fenway Park. In fact, I think about it all the time."

His admission caused her to heart thrum like a bird's flapping wings. Her pulse escalated to a wild rhythm as temptation exerted a force stronger than anything she had ever known.

Slowly but deliberately, she reached out and laid a hand on the center of his chest, although her eyes never left his. The moment Connie touched him, Mike's chest moved beneath her palm in a strong, quick breath as he felt the startling heat rushing throughout his body.

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	19. Chapter 19

A special hearing

Chapter 19

Bordered by the Boston Harbor and the Atlantic Ocean, Boston typically enjoys moderate climate tempered by the eastern sea breezes as air flows inland from the cooler surfaces of the ocean. And it was not unusual for winds to suddenly whip up and then fade again in a continual, endless pattern.

Thus by mid afternoon, most people had left the slightly swaying bridge to enjoy other entertainments on solid land. This left only Mike and Connie suspended on the tiny quaint bridge atop the languid lagoon in the flower- filled Public Garden.

When Connie had touched Mike's chest, she could feel the vibrant beating from within. The violent thump of his heart against her fingers filled her with a curious tenderness,knowing that the pounding was not caused by any wind.

The wind had died down for that moment, but even if it had not, Mike seemed frozen, unable to move. It was as if he feared any movement might frighten her away. He couldn't breathe as he watched her, noting how the softer winds blew gently through her hair. Then as if she realized that her fingers had been caressing him, she quickly dropped her hands.

"Connie," his heart ached at the absence of her touch.

It took an unaccountably long time for her to reply. Her long lashes lowered to conceal her thoughts.

"I don't know why I did that," she responded, as color rose to her cheeks.

"I just wondered why you stopped," he answered back softly.

Catching her waist in his hands, he pulled her in, gently compacting her against his body. There was an inviting look in his eyes. Hesitantly Connie slid her hand around the back of his neck, and could feel where his interlaced muscles had gone rigid.

At last his head lowered, and their breaths mingled while their lips touched in a sweet, supple kiss. His mouth was as warm and sensual as she remembered. Disoriented, Connie swayed in his grasp and his arm slid around her back to hold her securely.

His BlackBerry rang just at that instant.

Her cellphone rang at the same time.

They were brought back to reality as she slowly eased away from him.

"Funny about the timing of the calls," she half-whispered.

"It's seems as if they always seem to know the worst time to call, "Mike complained, unable to take his eyes off her as he reached for his BlackBerry while she read the screen on her cell phone.

The news was the same: The police had picked up Harry Maxwell and Gina Beaumont at the airport.

It was time to switch to thoughts regarding the case again. Exchanging shy looks, they both continued walking side by side on the bridge until they reached the other side.

Connie looked around, trying to buy time in order to recover, to keep her voice from shaking. She heaved a theatrical sigh, "It's hard to imagine this was the sight of a grisly murder."

"And we are not any closer to convicting the murderer," Mike stated implying Doug Merrick's guilt.

"…you mean _finding_ the murderer," Connie corrected him, implying Doug Merrick's innocence.

Mike looked out towards the ducks in the pond while Connie admired his strong profile. At last Mike turned back to her, "Connie, are you thinking Merrick is innocent because…of your past feelings for him?"

They had talked about this before, but it seemed more natural to ask this time for now he had some personal reasons vested in the question.

"I just think Doug is incapable of murdering his brother," Connie said, "Doug always looked up to his brother. They had no obvious animosity between them. Plus Doug is not the aggressive type when it came to family. No, Doug could not have murdered his brother. I'm sure of it."

"People can change," Mike said.

Connie was not convinced, "Yes, but not so very drastically," she surmised, then she turned and looked at Mike, "You know, Mike, I actually feel sorry for Doug, a man who once had everything. Not only did he lose his freedom, he lost his big brother AND his girlfriend as well."

"That I understand, " Mike stated quietly, not able to look at her, "I would be heartbroken, too, if I lost you as a girlfriend."

It was hard for Connie to maintain her composure as she peered over his way, "I was referring to his latest girlfriend, Cynthia Morgan."

Mike looked down on the ground embarrassed, but all Connie noted was the reddening of his cheeks above the hint of a dimple. He then pretended to be fiddling with his tie, which made him seem even more endearing.

Mike tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke out again.

I know we are treading a thin line with the lawyer/client privilege, " he stated, "but Connie, when you visited Merrick in prison, did he mention anyone else he thought might have committed the murder?"

Connie shook her head, "No, he just mentioned the idea that whoever killed Tom must have also killed Cynthia and then set him up to take the fall."

Mike tilted his head, "He said that?"

"Well, it seemed logical since, according to Doug, both Tom Merrick and Cynthia Morgan were... stabbed in the chest with a knife…" Connie seemed uncomfortable to recall the gruesome way they died.

Mike nodded quietly in acknowledgement, "So one dead victim was run over by a car while the other two murdered victims died of a knife wound."

Mike was deep in thought about the knife stabbings when all of a sudden, it was as if lightening had stuck. He jerked his head over to Connie.

"What?" she questioned.

"Both Tom Merrick and Cynthia Morgan were stabbed in the chest with a knife," Mike said, "and Doug knew that."

Connie stared at him, her eyes wide.

"You know, don't you?" Mike asked when he saw her expression, "You know the answer to whether Merrick is innocent or guilty."

"I think I do, "she concurred, not giving away anything "and you do, too!"

There seemed to be an added sparkle in Mike's eyes, "Are you up to doing some research to prove it?"

Connie smiled knowingly, "We have all night!"

.

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The next day, court had been cancelled and a hearing had been called.

Mike and Connie had met in Judge Brown's chambers at 10 a.m. for the meeting. Because there were so many people involved in the case here in the room, one of the judge's clerks had to bring in additional chairs.

Present for the prosecution besides Mike was EADA Josh Lethem. The defense team was represented by Connie and James Middleton.

Two police officers stood in back of the room to watch over the two "persons of interest" they had brought in for questioning, alternate juror Harry Maxwell and girlfriend/rape accuser Gina Beaumont. There was also a court reporter recording all interactions.

Last but not least sat the accused, Douglas Merrick.

Judge Brown entered the room and took his seat behind his large desk. His face was solemn and very businesslike. He was determined to berate anyone who had not followed the letter of the law in his courtroom.

That meant his first order of business was to turn to Mike and Connie.

"Let me start off right away, with you two, which isn't too surprising" he sardonically said, "I received an urgent call from the two of you early this morning. Very early this morning, in fact, stating that you wanted to call a meeting. I hope you realize that to call a sudden hearing when court is to resume is highly unusual?"

"We do, " Mike spoke out, "but in order to save the court some time, we felt it best not to drag out the case, but rather we wanted to bring the key players here in front of you in this less informal setting for a hearing."

The Judge looked even more puzzled.

"So this hearing is not for a plea deal?" he asked, "because if both sides are up to a deal, the two attorneys should be able to hash out an agreement on their own without me, oh wait…I almost forgot…there is not enough time in the world for you two to agree on _anything."_

Mike and Connie exchanged knowing looks.

"No, this isn't to strike a plea deal," Connie stated, " and again, we apologize for the early interruption but we wanted to bring everyone in your chambers, Your Honor, because we wanted everything on the record."

The court reporter waited for permission to proceed while the Judge silently considered the matter.

"I just hope you are not wasting my time," the Judge warned.

"No, Your Honor, " Connie said, "in fact, if you will allow this hearing to resume, Mr. Cutter and I have agreed not to object against one another the entire length of this meeting."

The Judge could not hide his look of surprise.

"Well, if you put it that way, how can I say _no_?" the Judge decided, "This meeting is now convened, " he said as the court reporter began typing in the steno machine, "But let me be the one to speak first."

"Of course, Your Honor," Mike slightly bowed his head in respect, "and thank you."

The Judge then turned to alternate juror Harry Maxwell, as Maxwell looked surprised and nervous that he was being singled out.

"Mr. Maxwell, I need to address this to you first," he began, "Regarding jury conduct, I have never seen such a serious breach of the law as represented by you."

"By me?" Maxwell looked scared, "Uh, I-I want a lawyer!" was all he could come up with.

"Yes, Mr. Maxwell, I would think you would," the Judge stated calmly, "You had lied to this court when you claimed to have no connection with any persons in this case. Believe me, we will discuss the consequences for your actions later."

The Judge then turned to Mike and Connie, "Now, with that out of the way, who wants to speak first?"

"I believe I will, Your Honor," Connie said, as she got out a slip of paper and presented it to the Judge, "I would like to begin this case backwards, starting with the most recent events first. Mr. Harry Maxwell and Gina Beaumont were recently picked up at the airport, obviously attempting to flee the court's jurisdiction. I have before you (she presented receipts) their airline tickets and Miss Beaumont's bank deposit showing $10,000 had been put in her account, and recently withdrawn, presumably to finance their getaway."

Gina Beaumont looked at a loss for words, "What the hell is she saying? That…that is money I've earned! I don't even know that guy," she insisted, pointing to Harry Maxwell, "He just happened to be sitting next to me at the airport when the police picked me up!"

"Except," said Mike, as he pulled out pictures taken from a video, "We have the bank surveillance stills showing you depositing the check last week and then three hours ago withdrawing the money. Each time you were accompanied by none other than the 'stranger', Harry Maxwell."

Gina's face fell.

"Come clean now, Miss Beaumont," Connie leaned towards her, "or we can charge you with perjury according to the statement you made with police... "

Gina was shaking her head, "I don't even know where to begin…"

"Shut up, Gina," warned Harry Maxwell.

"No, she's doing fine," assured Connie, "Now, Miss Beaumont, is it not true that you were originally paid by Tom Merrick to make that false charge of rape?"

"You might as well come clean, Miss Beaumont," added Mike, "You definitely do not want to add perjury to your lists of accusations."

Both Mike and Connie held their breaths.

Gina opened her mouth, thought better of it, and then seeming to relent, she almost shouted, "Okay, _OKAY!_…YES, DAMMIT! That is _exactly_ what happened!"

Harry shouted out, "**You fool!**" His face was red with anger. Gina merely glared back at him.

"You're next,, Mr. Maxwell," Mike challenged him.

"Next? W-what?" Maxwell looked confused as he insisted again, "I want a lawyer!"

The Judge intervened, "You'll have plenty of time for that, Mr. Maxwell," he said, "Believe me, your rights are not being violated. You are not being asked to testify here or say anything that would incriminate you. But I still plan to charge you with having lied to this court during voir dire. I could give you all the lawyers you want, but for now, it's best you show us that you know how to cooperate."

"I…I…" he then looked angrily at Gina, "Oh hell, I paid Gina to claim Douglas Merrick tried to rape her, but that is all I did! _She_ is the one that carried through with it!"

Gina halfrose from her seat and pointed viciously at him, "You d*ck!"

"Shut up, Gina!" Harry said,a s he folded his arms.

Mike and Connie breathed easier.

"But it wasn't your money, was it, Mr. Maxwell?" Mike asked.

He shook his head, "No, it was…given to me by…Tom Merrick."

Doug Merrick shot out of his seat, "My own brother did this to me?" he looked incredulous, "why?"

Maxwell turned emotionless at Doug Merrick, "To get a hold of your share of the trust, of course."

"And you agreed to be the middle person because you owed Tom Merrick money, didn't you, Mr. Maxwell?" Connie asked.

"Yes," Harry Maxwell seemed receptive to talking now, "Tom Merrick told me that if I could get somebody to claim Douglas had tried to rape her, he'd write off my debt to him. By the way, I want it on record that what money Tom Merrick stood to make from the trust fund was a hell of a lot more than what I owed him!"

Finally Josh spoke up, "Your Honor…as former _lead_ prosecutor on the case, I'd like to get in a word. I feel I have to say that we are getting off on a tangent. The issue of the rape charge against the defendant is interesting but not crucial. What is at issue is the murder of Tom Merrick."

The Judge agreed as he eyed Mike and then Connie, "Even though you have cleared up a point for us, counselors, Mr. Lethem makes a valid point. I still do not have the name of a murderer. Do you or do you not know who killed Tom Merrick?"

It didn't take long for Mike and Connie to respond.

"Yes," Connie replied.

"We do, Your Honor!" Mike concurred.

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_We are getting close to the end!_

_Please review_


	20. Chapter 20

Mystery solved.

Chapter 20

Mike and Connie were just about to reveal to everyone in the room who had murdered Tom Merrick.

"Yes, we know who killed Tom Merrick," stated Mike, "but we mustn't forget about the murders of Cynthia Morgan and juror number 8, Gloria Marchetti. They are all inextricably linked together."

"And there are some other facts we need to straighten out, first, before we get to the actual murder of Tom Merrick," Connie reminded.

The Judge sighed. Placing his elbow on this desk, he rested his cheek tiredly on his hand, "And why am I not surprised that we have to hear more about the case?"

Inexplicitly, Gina Beaumont, the woman who had accused Douglas Merrick of rape, spoke out.

"You two don't think _I_ had anything to do with those murders, do you?" burst in Gina.

"Hey, what about_ me_?" interrupted Harry, "I didn't have anything to do with those murders! I wasn't the one who started all of this! After all it was Tom Merrick's idea to phoney up the charge against his own brother, not me!"

"Mr. Maxwell," James Middleton suggested, "As a practicing attorney, let me give you some sound advice. You need to halt the unattractive excess of verbiage dribbling out of your mouth…in other words, _shut up_!"

"Actually, we are not quite done with Mr. Maxwell yet," Connie said as she reached into her files and produced another receipt, "Mr. Maxwell drives a very nice automobile, a 2008 red convertible Mustang, to be precise…yet despite owning such a vehicle, he found it necessary to rent a less expensive car on the night Juror Number Eight was run down."

Judge Brown put on his glasses before reviewing the car rental receipt and then looked over to Maxwell, "And what do you have to say regarding this coincidence, Mr. Maxwell?"

Maxwell stubbornly folded his arms again, sitting back, "I'm not saying another word!"

"Then I will fill in the gap, since this is a hearing and not the trial, " Mike theorized to everyone in the room, "The only motive alternate juror Mr. Maxwell would have in renting a car was to kill off a member of the jury so that he might be seated as a juror, thereby helping to insure that Douglas Merrick was convicted."

Douglas Merrick looked shocked at Harry Maxwell, "What!"

Maxwell got into defensive mode, he pointed angrily at Mike, "Don't listen to that damn lawyer! He's just crazy!"

"But what Mr. Cutter stated makes perfect sense," Connie bolstered Mike's stance, "Mr. Maxwell needed to get on the jury because juror Gloria Marchetti was leaning towards an acquittal." (she produced another paper) Here is an affidavit signed by Mr. Marchetti attesting to that fact regarding his late wife."

The Judge glanced at the legal document, took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. He had heard enough as he then turned to Mike and Josh, "I want your office to prepare charges against Harry Maxwell for perjury and for the murder of juror Gloria Marchetti."

Maxwell stood up and exploded with indignation, "This is outrageous!" he said, "I'll sue everyone in this room for defamation…for libel…for false arrest!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry!" Gina suddenly spoke out, "Give it up already! Can't you see the gig is up? Gawd I'm tired of all of this!"

All eyes went on her. She had a look of defeat plastered on her face.

"I don't doubt that you are very tired, Ms. Beaumont," Mike spoke up, with not the least bit of empathy in his voice, "after all, _killing Tom Merrick would take a toll on anyone_…"

There were audible gasps in the room.

"What? _ME? Not ME!"_ Gina looked shocked, "Why would _**I **_want to kill Tom Merrick? I've never even met the man!"

"You may be tired, but you are not truthful," corrected Connie, "We also had never made a connection between you and Tom Merrick. We figured all your dealings would have been through your boyfriend, Harry Maxwell. But when we spoke to various associates of Tom Merrick's—secretary, cousin, gardener, butler, to name a few, they all recognized your picture. You had been seen various times with victim Tom Merrick. Why, Ms. Beaumont? To what end?"

"I'll tell everyone why!" Harry Maxwell burst in, still angry at Gina.

"Shut up, Harry!" Gina warned.

"Go on, Mr. Maxwell, " the Judge cajoled Maxwell.

"You want to know why Tom Merrick was meeting up with Gina?" Maxwell asked, "He was blackmailing her, that's why!"

This time Gina nodded vigorously, intent on portraying herself the victim.

"That's right! The SOB was blackmailing me!" she shouted the words, "Tom Merrick promised to share the trust money with me, if I would accuse his brother of rape. I did what he wanted and then he didn't live up to his end. Said $10,000 should be enough to cover my trouble or Tom Merrick would turn me over to the police. Ten thousand measly dollars! That trust was worth millions of dollars! _Millions!"_

"Wait," piped in Josh to Gina, "If all that were true, why not threaten to tell the police on _him_?"

"Oh, yeah," her tone was sarcastic now, "yeah, they would believe me over the almighty Merricks! You think that would ever happen? Those goddamn Merricks have enough money to buy up all of Boston! You think they would believe me over him? No way! So yeah, I'm glad he's dead and I'd do it again if I could!"

The Judge had heard enough of Gina's guilt. He looked at one of the officers flanking the door, and gestured towards Maxwell and Gina, "Detain both of them, Officer."

Minutes later, Harry Maxwell and Gina Beaumont were handcuffed and led from Judge Brown's chambers.

With the two of them taken into custody, Judge Brown then turned again to Mike and Josh, "Based upon the evidence against Harry Maxwell and Ms. Beaumont's confession, I presume you'll be dropping charges against. Douglas Merrick?"

Douglas Merrick sat up expectantly.

"Yes, "Mike announced, as Merrick breathed a sigh of relief, "the DA's office plans to drop the charges against Douglas Merrick for the murder of his brother, Thomas Merrick."

But then Mike added, "but _onl_y for the murder of his brother…" emphasizing the word _only_.

Douglas turned to Mike with a scowl, "and what the hell is _tha_t suppose to mean?"

"…What that means…" Connie injected softly, as Douglas jerked his head in her direction, "…is that you, Doug, are still guilty of _murder_."

The last statement certainly got the Judge's attention as Douglas turned pale and his eyes widened.

"What? _Connie_!" Douglas exclaimed, "W-what do you mean? Why are you speaking crazy?"

"Miss Rubirosa," Middleton stated, "Douglas is your client! You owe a duty to him to defend him _against_ murder charges!"

"I was his attorney in the murder of his brother, yes," Connie stated, this time looking over to give Merrick a look of disappointment, "but I am _not_ his attorney if he is accused of a _different_ murder."

Douglas face had a look of sheer surprise and terror, "Connie, say no more!"

"Doug," Connie stated sadly, "I'm sorry to have to do this, but I know you murdered your girlfriend, Cynthia Morgan."

Douglas shook his head vehemently.

"No! _No_!" he denied it, "that's not possible…I didn't do it!"

Connie took a deep breath in, as she looked directly at Doug Merrick, "You told me when I visited you in jail that you assumed the same person who murdered your brother must have also killed your girlfriend Cynthia Morgan. You had based that assumption upon the fact that both had been stabbed in the chest with a knife."

Douglas gulped, "Yeah…, _so_?"

"Something didn't sit right with me about what you said, " said Connie, "so I did some research. Along with Mr. Cutter, I spoke to the chief of police who verified that the police had not divulged that fact to the press or to anyone else, for that matter. The only way you could have known that Cynthia had been stabbed in the chest was if you had inflicted the fatal wound yourself."

Now everyone turned to look at Douglas' reaction.

"_No, you're wrong_!" he shouted defensively, and then desperately asked, "Besides, why would I kill my only alibi?"

"Because, " Mike interjected, "she changed her mind about lying for you. I bet you coerced her into testifying she'd been with you the night Tom was killed. Then one day you must have seen the pictures of her and the woman who accused you of rape, Gina Beaumont. We saw those pictures at Cynthia's house, so chances are, you did too. That's when you realized that Cynthia and Gina were in it together. Your girlfriend sold you out for money. And that angered you. I'm sure, given time, we can come up with enough proof for everything I've just stated."

Douglas Merrick looked jittery, "No…NO! I'm not admitting to anything!" He turned to Connie, "And how could you do this to me? Didn't what we have mean _anything _to you?"

Connie looked at him emotionless, "Doug, this isn't about a past history. Everything you did, you brought it on yourself."

Douglas then turned to Middleton, "James, I've always considered _yo_u my lawyer…tell them I didn't do it! I _couldn't_ have done it!"

With all he heard, James Middleton thought better than to reply. He slumped back in his chair, a blank expression on his distinguished face. He then addressed the Judge, "Your Honor, this court and county has no jurisdiction over the death of Cynthia Morgan, a Cape Cod resident."

"Yes, that is true, " nodded the Judge. He then turned to Connie, "Anything you would like to add, Miss Rubirosa?"

"As an officer of the court," she said, "I must insist that any questions to Douglas Merrick without his having been formally charged will represent a serious Constitutional breach."

"Hey, yeah! That's right!" Douglas accused everyone, included Connie, "Everyone in this room has violated my rights, especially you, Connie!"

"Not at all," Connie said calmly, "I merely accused you. I have that right. We are not interrogating you. Not a single question has been asked. _Your _rights are still intact, although I can't say the same for your victim."

"Wham!Bam!" Josh exclaimed in sheer delight. He couldn't help himself, "Way to go, Connie!"

Mike then addressed the Judge, "Your Honor, I move that Mr. Merrick be held until the proper charges can be brought."

"Arrest Douglas Merrick for murder!" the Judge demanded of his bailiff.

After Douglas Merrick was taken away, everyone got up to leave. Mike and Connie also stood.

"Not you, two," the Judge said pointedly to Mike and Connie, , "There's something I'd like to tell you two. Have a seat again."

"I hope we're not going to be slapped with another contempt charge, Your Honor," Mike stated respectfully.

The Judge's expression didn't change, "The good news is this is not a punishment. The bad news is that it's awfully close."

Mike and Connie exchanged looks as they sat down once more.

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	21. Chapter 21

The News

Chapter 21

As Mike and Connie waited in chambers for the Judge to respond, he nonchalantly brought his hands together and placed them in front of him on the desk.

"First off, I just want to say," the Judge began, "that never in all my years as a prosecutor and as a judge have I ever seen the type of antics I have seen pulled in my courtroom from the two of you these past few days."

Connie held her head up high.

"If I may interject Your Honor," she stated confidently, "I was merely trying to defend my client to the best of my capability."

"Your _guilty_ client, if I may add," Mike reminded her.

"But _not_ guilty with the murder he was originally charge with," Connie corrected him.

"He was guilty of a crime, Connie. Murder is murder," Mike stated, "Tomato, guilty."

Connie narrowed her eyes, "On principle, perhaps, however-"

_"Ahem!"_

Mike and Connie stopped their discussion to look back at the Judge.

"Excuse me," The Judge stated drolly, "Did I _pause_ and give you two the impression that I was done speaking?"

"Uh, no, Your Honor," Connie apologized.

"It won't happen again, Your Honor," Mike expressed remorse.

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you," The Judge said, "but I have a feeling it doesn't have to do with matters of the law, but matters of the heart."

Both Mike and Connie looked embarrassed.

"Now that I have both your attentions," The Judge began "I wanted you to know that due to my power and influence, I have been able to keep the reporters at bay. However, now that this case has concluded, I assume you are ready to meet with said reporters. I think you owe them a story."

Mike and Connie looked at one another and then back at the judge.

"You want us to hold a news conference?" Mike asked.

The Judge smiled for the first time,"News conference, tomahto."

"_Now_, Your Honor?" asked Connie.

"Is there a better time?" The Judge asked, "They are waiting for you down the hallway, in the main conference room."

Mike and Connie looked questionably at one another.

"You can thank me later," he added, "Oh, and one thing you should know when facing the reporters."

Connie wasn't sure if she wanted to hear it, "What's that, Your Honor?"

"You can bend it, you can twist it, but the truth will always be straightened out..." the Judge sagely told them before he quipped, "so just be careful what truth you choose to tell them.." he waved his hand to shoo them away, "now, be off with you two... and good luck!"

Exchanging tentative glances, Mike and Connie had no option but to get up and leave.

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They walked down the hallway towards the conference room. They had reached the door front. On the other side, they knew there was a roomful of reporters. Even now, they could hear some low murmurings coming from the other side.

Mike was not looking forward to this at all.

"Looks like the vultures are waiting, " he commented

Connie gave a half-hearted smile for assurance.

"And soon they will be bombarding us with all _sorts_ of questions," she pointed out.

When Mike heard that, he froze. Conflict warred inside of him. What if they question him about his feelings regarding Connie?

They had shared two memorable kisses and after today, they would be back in New York City as working colleagues. Or, if he were to be totally honest, he would once again be her boss. He just didn't know how he would act with her once they got back. He wasn't sure if he could pretend anymore that she was nothing more than a colleague. Too much had passed between them.

And he did not want to discuss any of this publicly. He would not do it; he would not embarrass Connie.

"Are you ready?" Connie asked, as she took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.

Mike shook his head, "Connie, I don't want to do this."

"_What?"_ Connie's eyes widened, "You don't want to do the press conference?"

"Yes, he decided.

Somehow when it came to Connie, his feelings were so easily on display and he certainly did not want to show the world how he felt about her. Their relationship was tenuous at best and a push too much left or too much right could make it topple over. And he would not take that risk.

Connie watched him as if she understood, "I see," was all she said.

Mike lifted an eyebrow, "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You've always came off as a person who took pleasure in being the center of attention, someone who sought the limelight and yet, here is your big moment and what do you do? You back out," Connie stated, "I guess this confidence you exude is just a fake bravado. Why didn't I realize that before?"

_But I'm doing it for you, Mike internalized._

"You think, Connie, that I..."

_"_Mike, I'm joking!_"_ Connie was smiling to Mike's relief as she placed a reassuring hand on his arm "..Believe me,.I can more than handle myself! So if you don't want to speak, more's the better for me!"

"I didn't really mean I _wouldn't_ speak_..._." Mike began.

Connie's eye's leveled with his, "Mike, if you're worried about them asking uncomfortable questions...we can face whatever they toss our way..and we will do it together."

_She knew what he had been thinking._

Mike nodded,"I guess I was just being cautious because things are different between us."

"That's for another time, another place," she determined, "right now, we have a roomful of journalists to face."

Her fortitude seemed to have rubbed on him and he smiled. This perfect woman had an inner strength such as he had never seen with anyone else.

"When we get through with them, " Mike promised, "those reporters will feel as though they've stepped into a woodchipper!"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Connie said, "maybe just a leaf shredder."

"Sure, okay," Mike looked pleased, and then his face turned serious as he cautioned, "So when we go in there, we'll be united, yet...we will still play it on the safe side, right?"

He searched her face.

Connie blinked quickly, "Of course, we'll be just as cautious and quiet as we are in the courtroom."

Mike gave her a warning look.

"Connie-"

"Again, I'm_ joking_...I _know_ what you mean," Connie promised.

"Remember, _safe._ For myself, I plan to say minimal. Almost like a silent partner," Mike claimed.

"Silent partner, Mike?" Connie teased, as she opened the door, "Looks like I got an early Christmas present!"

"And what is _that_ suppose to mean-" Mike began, but Connie had already opened the door leading to the roomful of journalists.

Suddenly they were bombarded with shoutings and lights from everywhere. Shielding their eyes with their hands, they boldly walked straight to the podium as the murmurings had ceased. It was difficult with all the lights shining on stage to see how many journalists were in the room. Then suddenly everyone seemed to be yelling out questions at once, making Connie lift her hand to silence them.

At last the noise died down.

"Hello, and thank you for coming, " Connie began, "As you can see, " she gestured towards Mike, "Mr. Cutter and I are here to update you as to the status of the Douglas Merrick murder trial, which is now considered resolved."

The room of newspeople listened attentively as Connie explained the conclusion of the case. Perhaps it won't be so bad, Mike thought. He turned to listen to Connie, intent on saying a few words himself just as she ended the update.

"...and I couldn't end my talk without expressing my admiration for my adversary, Mike Cutter on a job well done by the prosecution, " Connie concluded.

Mike nodded his acknowledgement as he stepped up to the microphone.

"I, too, would like to compliment my colleague here, Miss Rubirosa," stated Mike, "she is an exceptional defense attorney and the case would not have been resolved without her."

"Thank you, Mr. Cutter," Connie blushed, "but it was under your brilliant leadership that the murderers were revealed."

Mike gave her a smile.

"I appreciate your kind words, Miss Rubirosa" Mike announced, "and I hope we are not going to go through another round of complimentary words with one another."

"Oh," Connie now turned to face Mike, "So modest! I see Mr. Cutter can only take flattery in small doses."

"Not quite right, Miss Rubirosa," corrected Mike, "the truth of the matter is, I'm not creative enough in the flattery department to keep it up on my end."

Laughter burst out from the crowd and Connie looked the most delighted as she spoke in the microphone.

"Now before we take questions from the journalists out there, I do have one more announcement," Connie stated, "Mr. Cutter has elected that I will be answering most of the questions..."

Mike looked at her, "Well, I didn't mean quite that..."

"What? You've changed your mind, Mr. Cutter?" Connie feigned surprise., "did you not say, and I quote, 'I will be a _silent partner'_ in there?"

The journalists seemed to be either jotting something down or elbowing one another.

"Speaking of partners," one journalists shouted out, "What's the deal with you two? Something going on between you two that you'd like to announce to us?"

So there it was. Right off the bat, Mike thought glumly.

"I, too, have been reading the newspapers," Mike said evasively, "and all I can tell you is that the only thing worse than being talked about is _not_ being talked about."

The reporters loved that quote and were busily scribbling.

"But that doesn't answer the question, Cutter," yelled out a different reporter.

"Yeah! What's going on between you two?"" another reporter shouted out, intent on keeping the relationship question at the forefront.

Before Mike could answer, Connie spoke in the microphone, "Perhaps you'd like to ask _me_ the question." She confidently squared her shoulders and Mike could not have been more proud.

"Sure, I'll ask you directly, Miss Rubirosa," a recognizable voice was heard. He stood and it was Artie Shaw, "Good day, Connie. We reporters could see the sparks flying throughout the courtroom proceedings. So tell us Miss Rubirosa, how do you feel about your nemesis in court, Mike Cutter?"

Mike was ready to cut in, wanted to protect her, but Connie turned and gave him a reassuring smile before she faced Artie and the crowd of reporters again.

"The way I feel about Mike Cutter is _exactly_ how I feel about chocolates," Connie announced, "And good luck to anyone who knows _that_ answer!"

There were chuckles throughout.

"Now, can we just go to the next topic?" Mike asked, relief shown on his face, "Otherwise, you will have proven the theory that journalism is just organized gossip."

"Okay, let me ask one more question then, "Artie attempted again, "and I promise you it won't be about Mike Cutter."

Connie internally relaxed and then nodded, "Go ahead, Artie."

" So, Connie," inquired Artie, "tell us... how do you honestly feel about _chocolates?"_

More laughter, even Mike and Connie could not stifle a grin.

Someone yelled out, "Come on, Connie, give us something! Show us that true beauty and brains trumps ..whatever it is Cutter seems to have!"

Some hand clappings and cheering could be heard.

Mike stepped up and spoke, "I know all of you are bowled over by Miss Rubirosa's wit and intelligence, but please try and looked just as impressed with what I have to say."

"We're reporters, not actors!" a new voice shouted.

Another round of raucous laughter. When it died down, Connie spoke.

"We are here to discuss the Merrick trial," she reminded everyone in the room, "Are there any other questions regarding the case?"

For another half an hour they patiently answered questions, and it seemed as if the journalist were enjoying the entire questions and answers segment.

"I think we've come to the close of this news conference" Mike announced, at last, to the sounds of groans.

"Thank you for coming," Connie stated graciously, "You've all been wonderful.."

Mike leaned into the microphone and completed the thought, "...just not this time."

Sounds of merriment could be heard throughout the room, as journalists were writing or recording the entire exchange. They had expected fireworks but it turned out to be even better than that. It was one of the most entertaining news conferences ever.

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_Last chapter coming up!_

_Please review_


	22. Chapter 22

The Goodbye

Chapter 22

With the case over, it was now time to return to New York City.

Connie had arrived to Boston by plane whereas Mike had rented a car. Even so, Mike had insisted that he accompanied her to the airport to see her off. She was more than happy to accommodate.

Sharing a taxi to the airport, Connie turned to view Mike as they sat in the backseat. She recalled when Douglas Merrick sat close to her, she had felt nothing. But with Mike, strange sensations took her as her whole body seemed to glow and she felt every distinct beat of her heart.

"What is it?" Mike tilted his head and looked questionably at her.

A pink blush rose to Connie's face, "Would it be odd if I told you I had a wonderful time at the news conference?"

"Not at all " Mike showed an air of playful confidence, "because often when I speak, the response is something equivalent to a standing ovation."

Connie managed a straight face, "That may be true... if the room was filled with three people..."

"...and one of the three was my mother," he further added.

She laughed.

It seemed to Mike that each time he interacted with Connie, every adversarial disagreement, every mocking bantering, was pure joy for him. He longed for more of it. He wanted to always be a part of her daily thoughts, to share every one of her secrets, and be with her anytime she was breathing.

Connie sat back in the seat of the taxi and contently stared out the window. The taxi seemed to curve along a labyrinth of tunnels and in no time, they had arrived at the entrance of Logan Airport.

The distinctive Boston central control tower, a local landmark with its pair of segmented elliptical pylons and six-story platform, loomed ahead of them. The airport terminal was just past the tower.

It was time to go back to New York City, go back to reality.

Inside the airport, the terminal was a massive, bright complex, full of people and rolling luggage rushing about. It didn't take long for Mike and Connie to arrive at the waiting area of the concourse. They both took a seat, knowing that soon there would be the announcement for Connie to board.

"Actually, Mike," said Connie, "I've already checked in my luggage, so it's a matter of waiting. There's no reason to keep you here, too. Besides, I'll see you at work in a couple of days."

Mike shrugged, "No, I'm staying right here...until it's time for you to go."

A pleased smile touched her lips, "That would be nice."

Connie wanted to savor this time with him. Sure, she would see him in New York City, but it seemed as if this trip to Boston had changed their entire dynamics, hopefully for the better.

"Connie, " Mike took a deep breath in, "I don't know what to make of our time here, but I hope this is the beginning for us."

"I feel the same way," she answered , before admitting, "but I'm scared too."

They were both distracted momentarily when a stranger walked past them.

The man had piqued their interest not because of his looks, but because of his demeanor and dress. Although this was an airport where people dressed in comfortable travel clothes, he was elegantly dressed in an evening tuxedo, holding an armload of roses.

His formal attire held most everyone's attention as he sauntered past everyone to stand next to the airport arrival door a gate away, patiently waiting, clutching the lovely bouquet of red roses.

It was obvious what his intentions were.

Mr. Tuxedo man was obviously anticipating the appearance of his significant other on the arrival flight.

Many of the women who were watching him from the waiting-room had purposely elbowed their partner. When they finally got the attention from their respective mates, the women would then proceed to gesture over in the optimistic man's direction with a "why can't you do that for me?" look on their faces.

Mike couldn't help but noticed how Connie, too, seemed to also be taken in with this very public show of love. Her entire face seemed to soften at the man's very sweet gesture.

"Do you see that, Mike?" Connie leaned in and her voice sounded whispery, "His girlfriend is one lucky woman!"

Mike's reaction was to bite his lower lip, knowing in the future he would be a letdown for her in the romance department. If she were expecting sweet words and flowers from him, it would not be.

"Connie, I don't do romance," he suddenly blurted out.

Connie slowly turned his way, not sure she heard right, "What?"

"It's just," Mike explained hesitantly, " that's not me. I don't do moonlit strolls, I don't do candlelit dinners, and I don't do slow dances. You need to know this about me…I don't know how to do those things..." his voice trailed off and he was unable to look at her.

His awkward confession seemed to touch something deep inside of Connie.

"Mike, I don't need any of those type of sweeping gestures."

He didn't look convinced as he faced her again, "You say that now..."

"if I wanted romance, Mike, " Connie worked to keep a straight face, "I wouldn't be here with you."

Mike's expression didn't change as he responded with a droll, "Thanks, Connie."

The corners of her mouth upturned.

"You know what I mean!" Connie stated.

"I know you said earlier you were scared," Mike reminded her, "I assume you were referring to me. I know I would be scared to be in my presence."

It was strange to see the ever-confident Mike Cutter so exposed, so vulnerable. Connie liked it.

"No, Mike, when I said I was scared, it was because I know how we are with one another, how we interact. Just look at us at court. We're combative and confrontational."

"Nothing wrong with being passionate about what we believe in," Mike pointed out.

"But in real life, we won't always have a judge between us" Connie stated with almost a sigh, "...sometimes I wonder if we can ever make it work."

""Connie," he stated quietly but certainty, "we can make anything work if we're in it together."

Connie heart gave an elated leap.

"I believe that, too," she softly agreed.

The voice through the speaker suddenly interrupted their private interlude.

"FLIGHT 408 TO NEW YORK CITY, PLEASE BOARD AT GATE 25A"

Exchanging hesitant smiles, they reluctantly stood, their eyes never leaving one another.

"So...I guess this is it," Mike stated, taking in a deep breath.

"This isn't a good-bye forever," Connie reminded him, "we'll see each other in two days."

"A long two days!" was his response.

Connie couldn't hide her pleased smile, as another thought entered her mind, "It'll be strange to see each other... back at work and all..."

"Just know that the first thing to greet you back at the office," Mike promised , "is a comforting brew of coffee I would've prepared just for you."

_And he said he didn't do romance?_ Connie thought, as flutterings flickered within her.

"I'll looked forward to that," she assented.

The crowds had thinned out in the waiting room by now as most people had already began to board. The line to board was getting shorter and shorter. Time was running out.

"I should go," Connie said ruefully.

Connie had always hated goodbyes at airports. She was not the type to show public displays of affection. What should she do as they parted? Shake hands? Hug? A short kiss?

As she pondered, it was Mike who made the decision.

He took one of her hands lovingly in his. Then reverently bringing it up to his lips, he lightly grazed it as his piercing blue eyes watched her. The entire gesture sent chills down Connie's spine as a sweet sensation flowed throughout her body.

When he let go on her hand, they were held spellbound as they waited for the jerking of their hearts to slow to a normal pace.

"Go, now" Mike stated in a hushed tone, as he gestured with his head towards the gate's door, a dimpled smile slowing forming on his face.

It would be the hardest thing in the world for Connie to leave him.

Everyone else in the waiting room had moved on; she would be the last passenger to board.

Connie watched as Mike wordlessly reached down and handed the carry-on bag to her. Grateful, she accepted it, turned and walked towards the attendant, who was standing next to the departure door.

Connie felt saddened at the thought that with every step forward she took, it would mean a step further away from him.

As she handed the boarding pass to the attendant, she turned one last time to look back at the now emptied waiting room. Mike was the lone person standing there. With his hands stuffed in his pocket, he would do as he had promised...watch her until the plane took off.

When their eyes met from across the room, he slowly raised his hand in a heartfelt goodbye gesture, a smile shining on his handsome face.

The sight of his loving farewell deeply touched her and a thought suddenly occurred to her. She didn't need fancy clothes, roses or music for romance. They seemed so mundane to her now. No, her ideal romance didn't need a single thing...except Mike Cutter.

And with that realization in her heart, Connie turned to give him one last brilliant smile before she boarded the plane.

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_The End_

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_**Thank you soo much for reading/alerts/faves and reviews! I am ever so grateful to have so many wonderful readers! It truly makes me smile every time someone takes the time to read my story that I absolutely LOVED writing! I was also happy to give Mike and Connie the ending they deserved.**_

_**Please be on the lookout for my next story titled "It's Complicated". Although a Mike and Connie story it will be very different in tone. I hope you enjoy it. *Keeping my fingers crossed***_

_**Happy Holidays!**_

_**And I wish you much love and romance in your life!**_

_**-DaisyDay**_

_Please review for the last time!_


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